Red In The Morning
by sinking815
Summary: Sighing, she opened her eyes, finding that spot so distant on the horizon, letting her eyes wander between the spaces when Orion and Pegasus should have been... JK POST LTDA
1. Darkness

The first thing she noticed was that the darkness around was somehow different than it had been five minutes ago. This oblivion was more permanent and pervasive, yet less claustrophobic than the first. With the first darkness, she'd been able to wrap her mind around its deceit; there still was a lit and functioning world just beyond that pleated canvas. But with this darkness, there seemed to be nothing to wrap her mind around.

The second thing she noticed was the lack of the bag itself. The mildewy smell of damp fabric and the stuffiness of her own exhaled breath had been replaced by what smelled like the tang of close ocean salt. The humidity of the afternoon had dissipated along with the blistering heat and the familiar whispers of cool night air barely brushed her bare arms. There was still the helpless feeling of cord that bound her wrists and the throbbing in her lower back and shoulders told her, that five minutes ago was an uncertainty too.

As Kate struggled through the fog of sedation, the events of what had happened suddenly bombarded her sluggish thoughts, forcing them into a whirlwind of images and sensation before exploding into a maelstrom of a headache.

The roar of the engine… 

_The ringing in her ears…_

_The sting from the dart…_

_The ache in her knees…_

_The arrogance in their voices…_

_The intensity in his eyes…_

This was what it felt like to go crazy, she thought, her own eyes and pulse racing frantically, pleading with the darkness to slow down her runaway mind. Yet the harder she looked, the more her brain spiraled and Kate felt the unexpected wave of vertigo toss her completely over the edge. She choked on the now soggy gag as nausea settled itself in the pit of her stomach. Desperation viciously clutched her breath away, raking its claws down her parched throat, and just when Kate felt the edges of her mind begin to lose clarity, she squinted hard, recoiling against a blinding light.

For a moment, she was like a deer caught in the headlights of oncoming traffic, completely absorbed by that which had broken through the darkness. But soon its glare became hostile to her own unadjusted eyes. Once again her vision tunneled to blurriness.

She felt the other presence on the room before she saw its shadow and blinked rapidly past the burning tears watering her sight. Mumbling reached her ears, but despite her best efforts at concentration, she couldn't make the low sounds form recognizable words.

Then something soft and cool pressed along her forehead and wet rivulets of water slid down her face and neck to wet the collar of her t-shirt. It rinsed the sweat from her skin and gently absorbed the excess tears filling her eyes. As the damp cloth worked its magic, Kate breathed a shaky sigh of relief feeling the dizziness loosening its vice-like clasp.

"That's enough, Alex."

At the sound of the voice, Kate raised her head, her eyes meeting a pair of large green ones so similar to her own. The face of the girl looked apologetic and as she stood and backed away, Kate guessed the girl was in her late-teens. She watched her fidget with the drenched rag in her hand, wringing it nervously with her fingers.

"Sorry about the sedative. It was the easiest way to secure you," the voice continued.

The instant Kate managed to locate the owner, she wished she hadn't thought to look for him. It was Henry again, or at least the Other who went by that alias. He held a torch in his hand, but was still dressed in the same ragged clothes and stood on bare feet like she had seen on the dock. He fixed her with a contemptuous stare and a smirk returned to his almost non-existent lips. Kate could only hope blatant defiance glared back at him.

"I'm quite glad you're awake though," he said in a patronizing tone. "We have a lot to discuss."

Pulling up the legs of his pants, he squatted in front of her, close enough to intimidate but far enough to flee if somehow she escaped her bonds. If her mouth was not stretched by the gag, she would have returned the smirk at this observation. "There are a few ground rules I feel I should layout if you are to stay here with us."

He said it as if she had a choice.

"As you can see, your friends are not with you," he said, gesturing to the empty hut around them. "But don't worry, they are being taken care of."

The reassurance was anything but. She managed to keep her gaze obdurate, even though the mention of Jack and Sawyer engendered a deep sense of foreboding in her chest. If they weren't here with her, then where were they?

"We expect theirs and your full cooperation and there will be consequences if this condition is not satisfied. Let me just say that testing the water on this one would not be in anyone's best interest."

Green fury shot fire at blue apathy, the intense staredown settling thickly along with the warning among the three present. Out of the corner of her eye, Kate saw Alex shift nervously and stored the subtle tell to memory. Maybe she was the girl that had helped Claire escape. At least she fit Claire's vague description.

"Alex, remove her gag." She stumbled forward quickly, and Kate noticed the look in her eyes was not one of subordinate fear and yet not one of hate or even dislike. She was merely a kid, doing what was requested of her, like an obedient dog who follows commands without question but wonders why exactly a specific task was requested.

Her hands worked gently yet fastidiously, loosening the tight knot at the back of Kate's head, apologizing softly when she accidentally pulled Kate's hair. When she backed away, her eyes found Kate's once again and for a second, she swore a promise in Alex's eyes. But before she could confirm the girl's empathies, Henry's nasal voice broke through again.

"Being allowed outside for fresh air is a privilege, one that can be taken back if anyone of you tries anything rash. Food and water are also privileges, although please realize, we are not barbaric and would rather like to keep you comfortable." He smiled at her, leaning close. "Do you understand?"

For a long moment Kate just stared, scowling at him with unabashed fury, contemplating whether to act like Sawyer and snap off some smart-ass comment or take Jack's lead and just shoot daggers with looks.

"Do. You. Understand."

Jack won. She nodded, not trusting her voice and glared as he smiled, spinning on his heel. He had almost reached the door of the hut when she felt the desperate need to fight back. It wasn't in her nature to not retort to a threat. The Marshal had learned that much.

"I don't care what you do to me," she snarled, her bravado seeming to echo loudly against the thatched walls and roof. For a second, she thought he was going to ignore her comment, but one of his smiles, the kind that made her stomach twist, stretched across his face and an amused screeching chuckle escaped his mouth.

"Oh, it's not what we're going to do to _you_, Katherine." He paused, reveling in her horror as her full name smacked her right between the eyes. "It's what we're going to do to _them._"


	2. Pressure

Chapter 2:

Wallowing in self-pity was not something he was accustomed to doing. The loss of a patient, the grating of a mistake could never fully be savored in its emotional rawness before another emergency was immediately thrown in his lap. It was a vicious cycle of hard-work, no reward, hard-work, no reward, but at least he had been the one in control. Now, as he stared unblinking at the dirt, he was numb to the world around him, save for the one feeling he had been able to keep at bay for the twenty long years since his father's lesson on choice. But even if he had not allowed himself that privilege, he had the strongest suspicion this was what it would have felt like.

"Great, Doc. Next time you decide to lead us on a tour of Hell's jungle by a murderous traitor, some concern for our consent would be nice."

At least one person wasn't afraid to still point fingers.

Rather than honor the comment with another retort, Jack's eyes barely moved from their constant stare at the flickering shadow of the guard stationed just outside their hut. Shifting his weight to ease the burning pressure in his knees, he winced at the cracking in his back and the sting of blood rushing towards his half-sleep legs. His arms were past the point of feeling from the odd angle that they were wrapped and secure around a wooden pole against his back. If he was feeling this stiff and sore after several hours of captivity, that guard must be frozen solid. Jack could swear he hadn't moved since taking up his sentry duty. Before he could consider the oddity of stationing one guard to two prisoners, the slow Southern drawl interrupted the silence once again.

"I sure hope you're all clammed up 'cuz your collegiate brain over there is thinkin' up some master escape plan and it ain't just that Puss In Boots got a hold of your tongue," Sawyer sneered. He waited for a second, watching the other man absorb the biting remark with all the patience of a saint—again, no response.

Interesting, he mused. Jacko seems to have learned the finer points of anger management. Well, let's see if he can keep his personal feelings out of this.

"She in on it? Or is she in the dark about this too?"

At last, Jack's head snapped up and Sawyer could only see what he'd describe as jealous confusion in his firelit hazel eyes. His forehead crunched into the three deep lines that seemed to be mandatory whenever she was brought up between them and Sawyer felt his own brow scrunch back.

"Yeah, I saw it Doc," he spat, voice low and menacing. "Wasn't hard to see you two spouting your dying confessions to each other…"

"I know what I'm doing," Jack snapped, feeling like the fuse to his temper was being tickled by a flickering lighter. "You just make sure you don't get her in any trouble by aggravating our friends."

There was an edge to his voice Sawyer hadn't heard before, one bordering on outright aggression. Sawyer's eyebrows raised in slight amused surprise. If he wasn't mistaken, good old hero just threatened him for the first time over Freckles.

Sawyer glanced over at the shadow on the ground that had Jack fixated so intently. He thought about returning the threat, but for once decided holding his tongue was better. After all, Zeke was probably listening to every word between the two.

Jack silently thanked whatever God there was that Sawyer didn't reply. He hadn't lied; he had a plan of some sort. That defiant thought didn't ease his discomfort any. He had been so sure they would be held prisoner together and it made him more nervous and edgy that Kate had been separated from them.

What did that mean? Was she being treated the same? Better? Worse? What if she had a reaction to the sedative? What if she was hurt? What if she was scared? Why couldn't he be there for her? What had he gotten them all in to?

His mind was spinning from everything and he could feel the stiffness settling itself in his back. But with bound hands and a lone guard outside, there was little Jack could do. Self-pity slipped mindlessly back into the hut as silence enveloped both captives until morning.


	3. Uncertainty

Chapter Three:

Night had always been her favorite time of day. There was something strangely calming about its darkness, as if the whole world had shrunk down and nothing existed beyond what her eyes could see. The moonlight wasn't as glaringly oppressive like the sun's noon rays. Night wasn't as complicated.

Tom had once told her, in his gruff voice, that night made him nervous with all its uncertain dangers and unseen evils. She had asked him why he didn't just stay inside then, to which he had laughed at her innocent curiousity and replied, "Because it's my job to be one of those evils." For a nine-year-old, she was very perceptive and knew he was only kidding and trying to rile her fears, but as she looked back on it, she realized her mind was not privilege to the bigger picture that comment had tried to paint.

Walking towards the circle of shadows sitting huddled around a growing fire, Alex swallowed past a lump of disapproval that always formed at these meetings. After sixteen years, she still couldn't fathom why these people felt it necessary to torment and determine the fate of the infinite number of prisoners they made it their duty to capture. It wasn't a burning animosity she felt, just a helpless need to understand. But with no answers forthcoming and no allies on her side of the argument, she had no choice but to follow along. It was all she had ever known.

No one really payed her much attention when she squeezed her way in amongst them, perching easily on the edge of a halved and aged log. Only Bea gave her a slight indifference acknowledgement before turning back to Henry, as he had introduced himself to their prisoners, who finished whatever he had been discussing. With his pale blue and unblinking eyes that always made her stomach twist, he turned to stare at her. She hated his eyes.

"She give you any trouble?" he asked.

"No," she replied. Her answer was abrupt but not rudely so. It was a well-known fact that Alex was not a girl of many words. Maybe that was the reason she was so perceptive.

"She ask you any questions?"

Again, a short reply. "Just about her friends."

"You didn't answer, did you?"

She shook her head and let out a relieved breath as he dropped his scrutiny after hearing the answer he was looking for. She had wanted to. All that poor girl wanted was confirmation that her friends were nearby and safe. But Alex had done her duty and simply pretended she was not privy to that information.

She'd never admit it to anyone here and wasn't even sure why she was admitting it to herself, but Alex sort of felt a connection to her captive. If she had to explain it, she considered it might be due to Kate's quiet albeit steely assuredness. During Henry's interrogation, Alex admired the way the other girl had regarded both of them with vigilant suspicion and her determined bravado in the face of an uncontrollable situation. In the short moment after when she had delivered Kate's dinner, she had the weirdest feeling that under any other circumstances she and Kate would have been friends.

Feeling a nudge at her side, Alex realized she had faded into a trance and mentally shook herself back into focus.

"Tomorrow morning, we'll start this whole process," Henry began, his nasally voice sounding especially hard on her tired ears. "To prove we're not barbarians, take each one out separately for a few minutes of air and put them straight back. These people are smart. They are determined and I want someone with them at all times. Do _not_ let them see each other. Do _not_ let them ask questions. Do _not _turn your back on them."

He paused and looked each person gathered in their eyes, letting his instruction sink in. A few assenting nods was all that interrupted the silence.

"Tom and Pickett, you can take care of Shephard and Ford. Now the one who's going to be the loudest and most obnoxious is Ford, but he's more bark than bite. Still keep an eye on him. Shephard is the one you can't let up for one second. He's a sleeper. When he knows he's defenseless, he waits and he has patience that he will use. If he gives you any trouble at all, threaten _her_. That's his weakness."

Alex felt a sick plummeting in her stomach when she saw Tom's grin and knew he was remembering his confrontation with the doctor two weeks ago in the jungle. It wasn't fair, she thought, that Kate had to go through this only to be used as leverage.

"Alex, you stay in charge of Austen. She's less combative around women but she's another sleeper, even more so than Shephard, so watch her. Now, I wasn't able to determine her weakness so watch for that too."

"After they've been let out, we'll draw blood and begin. Let's start with…" He paused again, his eyes losing focus and clarity as if he had to retract from the present to see his answer. "Shephard. I want Ford bound and gagged and Austen heavily sedated but alert. Understood?"

Another round of nods and soft affirmations and he stood and smiled, his sign to dismiss the gathering. Alex rose too, anxious to leave, but Bea's question dragged out the meeting for one more second.

"When exactly should we start?" her slow smooth voice asked.

Henry smiled his cold unnerving smile before replying, "Sunrise."

If that sensation in her stomach had been only plummeting, it was a drilling dread now. She had the surest certainty, she was going to regret this assignment.


	4. Waking

Chapter Four: Waking

_It was funny_, Kate thought, as she woke groggily from a restless slumber, _that just when you thought you'd experienced the lowest of lows, life dealt you the next worst hand._ Immediately after the crash, Kate was sure there couldn't nights any more closer to Hell than what they had gone through in those first few days. Sleeping unsheltered, dazed and hungry, near forty some strangers and a secret to die for in the middle of nowhere with an everpresent monster or the equivalent to what sounded like one, had, at the time, been the worst of the worst. But now, she realized sleepily, at least then she _had_ been with other people and she _had_ the decision of sleeping stretched lengthwise or curled in a ball. Both were now distinctly missing.

Steeling herself against the inevitable crack in her neck as she corrected its odd angle and the pins and needles feeling just below the burn in her thighs, Kate shifted as much as she could to relieve the numbness in her limbs. To her horror, the movement made painfully clear one of the most uncomfortable pressures of all—she needed to pee, and badly. She groaned softly in frustration. What she wouldn't give for a hundred more nights post plane-crash. That was heaven compared to this.

She glanced up at the doorway and noticed the faint glow around its edges that hadn't been there the last time she had woken. For a minute, she almost resigned herself to the fact that is was still night and one of the Others was patrolling by with their fiery torches just outside her hut. But that glow would have been orange and flickering, not the pale steady blue leaking through the cracks now. It had to be near sunrise.

Before Kate could congratulate herself on the observation, a shadow moved on front of the door, momentarily blocking the friendly light from view. The same young girl who had ungagged Kate earlier stepped cautiously through, her hands clutching a roughly hewn bowl and a poor excuse for a cup. She whispered a barely audible "Good morning," and set the meager offering before Kate. It smelled like mango and fried fish.

"I'm sorry it's not much," she said, moving to untie her captive's bound wrists. "But it's all they'd let me bring." She worked diligently at the knot, paused in her work, and then added as an afterthought, "Don't run okay? Or I'll have to shoot."

Only then did Kate notice the rifle slung across her back and the image of Rousseau blended frighteningly with the kneeling girl before her. Shaking off the uncanny resemblance, Kate could only nod her affirmation to the girl, who then quickly removed her bonds and stepped back to let her captive eat.

An awkward silence fell between them as Kate stretched luxuriously, rotating the stiffness out of all her joints. The other girl never once took her eyes off of her. _That's okay_, Kate mused, reaching for the fruit first and sinking her teeth into the cut mango. _It's not like I've haven't ever had this "security" before._

The more she ate, the more aware Kate become as to how hungry she really was. She cleared out the bowl and the water in no time and found herself wishing there was more. Then a thought occurred to her. The other girl looked fidgety as if she wanted to ask something but wasn't quite sure of the words. Well, if they were going to keep her ungagged, she may as well try to find something out about… anything.

"Are you Alex?" Kate asked, taking a stab in the dark. It wasn't like she had anything to lose.

At the sound of her name, her eyes widened and Kate noticed that she had been wrong before. Her eyes were a vivid blue, and the image of Rousseau came crawling back into the hut. It was amazing really, how a trait could be passed on like that. The only difference was the eyes staring at her now were devoid of that crazed paranoid look that had always made Kate suspicious of the woman; these eyes were inquisitive and trusting.

"Ummm…" she stammered, glancing nervously at the closed door. "Yeah, I'm Alex. How'd you know my name?"

A question for a question. Fair was only fair.

"Claire told me about a girl that helped her escape," Kate said slowly, gauging the girl's reaction.

"Claire?" Alex's voice changed noticeably at the mention of the Australian's name. "Is she okay? Did she have the baby? Is it a boy or a girl?"

The sudden flood of questions signalled a score for Kate. But like an experienced poker player, Kate knew to remain on guard even with this small victory.

"I'll answer your questions, if you answer mine," she offered, pushing the empty bowls towards Alex, as if pushing her bet across the velvet of a card table and waited for her opponent's response. _Slow play it, Kate. Just like Jack with his kings wired._

Again, the nervous glance toward the door, the movement letting the light glare warningly off the barrel of the rifle. Kate winced slightly at the ugly reminder and forced herself to look away.

"Okay but not here," Alex whispered. She came forward and offered her hand to help Kate up and pulled her towards the door. "I have to take you out for ten minutes. We can talk by the stream."

She peeked out carefully, surveying the outside area and then turned back to Kate. "There are rules though."

Kate felt like sighing and rolling her eyes. Of course there were rules. There always were. But she nodded, feeling the pressure against her bladder screaming for cooperation.

"Don't look for them. They won't be out. Don't talk or yell. You'll lose your privilege. And if you run or do anything…" Alex paused. "I will shoot."

"I promise."

Alex stared at Kate hard and then said, "Okay, let's go."

Tom sat by the fire, holding a pan of filleted fish over the glowing embers and smiled as the meat sizzled and popped over the intense heat. Even though his back was turned to the hut, he could hear the whispers of the two captives inside, no doubt discussing their next move. He smiled and chuckled to himself. It wasn't really like those two had much of a choice. But who was he to ruin their fun? They'd find out soon enough just how out of their control this situation was.

Footsteps approaching made him look up and drop all thoughts of the two men inside. A weary looking Kate, rubbing at her wrists, and a watchful Alex, gun in hand, strolled by. Alex shot him the slightest nod of confirmation that she was indeed behaving, a nod he reciprocated. _Good girl Alex_, he thought, watching their backs retreating farther away. He kept his eyes on them a minute longer before their silhouettes merged with the early morning shadows of the towering rock formation over the camp.

_Keep an eye on her_, he reminded himself. But about which her he was referring to, even Tom couldn't really tell.


	5. Fog

Red In The Morning 

_**Chapter Five: Fog**_

The stream water was cool and refreshing against her cheeks and when she closed her eyes, she could feel the tracks of droplets rinsing away all the sweat and grime from the past twenty-four hours. With the back of her hand, she pressed away the excess water clinging to her eyelashes and tried to ignore the feeling of eyes boring into her. Even when she had made it known she intended to relieve herself, Alex had only restated she was under orders to keep her eyes on her captive at all times. Kate had wanted to argue, but she wasn't the one with the authorative weight of a rifle by her side.

"Hurry, we don't have much time."

Kate rocked back on the balls of her feet, wiping more water along her arms before shaking off her hands. Barely rotating on her toes, she looked at Alex, who glanced at her and then to the path they had just walked. No sign or sound of company could be seen or heard; only the still whispers of pre-dawn surrounded them.

"You wanted to know about Claire," Kate said, trying to sound as uninterested as possible. If there was ever a time to dig for clues, this was it.

"Did she have the baby?"

Kate regarded the other girl for a moment, noticing the way her eyes seemed to light up in a desperate search for answers and the way she inclined her body forward with eagerness.

"Yes," she answered, slowly.

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

"Boy."

What could only be described as relief flooded Alex's face. She beamed at Kate as if the two of them were best friends sharing secrets at a slumber party. Well, Kate thought, weren't they?

"Alex," Kate called, retrieving the teenager's wayward attention. "Why were we brought here?"

The tension returned almost immediately and the area around them seemed more hostile and targeting than a few minutes before.

"I…" Alex frowned, throwing another paranoid look over her shoulder. "I think they want you for tests. But I don't know."

"You _think_?" Kate knew the frustration was apparent in her voice, but this whole situation was trying even to her patient nerves.

"They don't really talk about their plans in front of me," Alex explained. She was grasping desperately for that familiarity she had managed to find in Kate.

Kate huffed a sigh. _All right, dead end. Try a different angle._ "What kind of tests?"

There was a snap that seemed ridiculously loud and they both turned towards the path where it came from. A silhouette was approaching.

"I'm sorry. I can't say," Alex whispered. She moved and grabbed Kate's elbow, pulling her up. Her expression was panicked and her voice urgent. "We have to go back now."

The figure still approached them at its steady rate. Kate felt her feet moving before she nodded her understanding. As they walked, the figure lost its ghostly appearance and the characteristic ragged clothes and scraggly beard of an Other morphed through the morning mist. All Kate knew was that the man before her was not the one named Tom.

"What took you so long?" he growled at Alex, eyeing Kate suspiciously.

"I lost track of time," the girl responded. It was a good cover, but years of learning to make excuses on her toes told Kate that that's exactly what it was—a cover. If he knew it too, he didn't say anything. Instead, he spun on his heel, barking a gruff order to follow him and to hurry.

For someone who talked so much, Jack thought, it was amazing how fast Sawyer could close his rambling mouth. The instant the shadow had reappeared at the door, the Southerner had instantly ceased all attempt at communication and took to fixing a cold blue stare at the man who walked in. Jack forced his eyes to see their visitor and saw the reason for the hatred in the other man's eyes. It was Tom and Sawyer hadn't forgotten the grudge he intended to fulfill.

Tom smiled a friendly greeting and in his loud voice offered, "Morning, boys." He shifted to look at both of them and that's when Jack got a good long look at two syringes stuck in his belt. He stared, fixated and felt his heart jump to his throat. Needles were never good.

"You gonna bring us some breakfast, Zeke?" Sawyer snapped. "Or did you just fry your own outside our hut for your own entertainment?"

"Don't worry James. You'll get your food soon enough," Tom replied, seeming unfazed by his captive's goading comments. He reached to his belt for one of the syringes and casually attached a needle to its end as he walked slowly towards Sawyer. "All right. Say ow."

"Sonofa…" Sawyer yelled, tensing against the injection and watching with a mixture of horror and rage as the syringe filled with his blood. His thrashing did little good against his secure bonds. "What the hell is that for?"

"Well I can't tell you that James," he grinned. He broke the needle off, marked an "F" on its side and tucked the syringe back into his belt. He pulled the other syringe out, set it up much the same way and turned to face Jack. "Your turn."

Jack stared straight ahead, mainly in defiance but also because he knew there was no point in fighting. He barely flinched as the needle pierced his skin and forced himself to relax his muscle to ease the pain. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding when the sharp sting receded from his arm. Only then did he allow himself a glare at Tom.

"You're awfully quiet today Jack," the man said, standing above him. The superior and inferior reminder was not lost on Jack; he just choose to pretend it didn't exist. "It's not like you."

The snap of the needle breaking off, the scrape of a knife marking "S" and Sawyer's movements was all that could be heard before Jack found his tongue.

"Where's Kate?"

Tom laughed that same condescending laugh after Jack had tried to call him on his bluff in the clearing.

"She's fine." His tone was slow and not reassuring in the slightest. "You'll be seein' her soon."

Jack felt his steely gaze melt into a look of pure confusion and out of the corner of his eye, saw Sawyer cock his head and set his jaw at the remark. But Tom wasn't giving them anymore hints and said, "See ya later boys." Without a second look back, he exited the hut.

Something was out of sorts. She knew she wasn't dreaming but she felt like she was stuck in the middle of a sleepy fog. The edges of her sight were fuzzy but she could still hear everything going on around her. Her arms felt numb and heavy, and for once in her life, Kate thanked the bonds that held her. If they weren't there she was sure she would have fallen in a heap to the ground. Whatever that man had injected her with had hit her fast and had hit her hard.

But it wasn't a sedative. That had knocked her out efficiently before she even had time to comprehend being injected. With this, everything around her felt like it was on a delay. Her brain seemed to want to command but her arms and legs were like insubordinate troops with cotton in their ears. She felt like she had no control. That's when she felt the panic set in.

"Kate, you're fine."

She could hear Alex's voice and felt a hand on her left arm, but her neck wouldn't cooperate to let her focus on the girl. It seemed to have joined the strike too.

She watched the man approach her with a different needle and syringe, this one larger and empty compared to the last one. He pulled her shirt sleeve up and rubbed her skin vigorously in a half-hearted attempt to loosen her muscle. It wasn't necessary. Kate was certain she had never been this relaxed in her life.

The needle still pinched and she winced at the temporary pain in her arm and watched horrified as he drew back the plunger, filling the syringe with her blood. Her mind screamed for her to fight back, that this wasn't good, to find help, yell for someone, do something, but her body refused to cooperate.

Instead all she could focus on was Alex's comfortless attempts to reassure her she was fine, that they weren't going to hurt her, that this was necessary if she wanted to see her friends…

Jack? Sawyer? When was the last time she had seen them? Where were they? What was going on?

She couldn't even struggle when she felt two sets of hands hoist her from the ground and drag her, one arm each slung over a set of sturdy shoulders, out into the morning light. Suddenly the sedative seemed much nicer compared to this.


	6. Ultimatums

Red In The Morning 

_Author's Note: Well, I started to write this chapter and was taking it in a completely different direction than the one you are about to read. I sat down to start typing it up, as I had written it in a notebook, and for whatever reason, this version came out instead. I only hope this works the way I want it to. Read away, and as always, reviews greatly appreciated!_

_**Chapter Six: Ultimatums**_

_"It's why the Red Sox'll never win the damn Series…"_

He must have heard that phrase a million times as a boy. And that was the low estimate. It seemed to be the punchline to a joke he was never really meant to understand. Every visit to his father's study ended in that meaningless phrase lingering in the air between a pair of hazel brown eyes and a pair of steely blue. Just like the faint stench of alcohol as the last word left his father's mouth. Every visit, except one.

Jack never did figure out why his explanation of standing up for Marc Silverman on the playground that spring day didn't merit the saying. Walking into that big meant-to-impress study, he had expected it to come out first, last and probably between every other sentence of his father's inevitabe lecture. Instead, he had been shown the backs of two closed fists and had been commanded to choose, to gamble on which held the quarter. He never heard it that day, but he hadn't really ever needed to. It was implied; whether he understood it's meaning or not, it was always there.

Now, it seemed to cycle through his mind on a vicious loop, over and over, repeating its mantra in a last attempt to make its sole audience member finally understand. Though they tried and tried to be the best, the Red Sox would inevitably fail. They just never had what it took. Just like him.

The hot sting of tears burned at the backs of his eyes and the raw tightness in his throat demanded a drink to wash away the mounting tension. Jack felt like he was losing his sanity, the endless tumble of circular logic led back to rounds of rapid-fire questions he wanted answers to that merged with thoughts of escape and the planning needed which connected with the logic again… STOP! His breathing was deafening in his own ears but somehow he managed to hear them enter.

The last of the four hadn't even passed through the doors before the shock of their sudden appearance wore off his bound and gagged fellow prisoner. Sawyer immediately started spitting all sorts of fiery unintelligible sounds at them, probably obscenities he made up right there on his dirt stained knees. They didn't even give him the time of day.

Instead, Henry moved to stand directly in front of him with Bea at his side, while Tom and the burly man took up positions flanking him from behind. Out of the corner of his eye, Jack let himself take stock of their intentions but tried his hardest not to allow his anxiety show.

_"It's why the Red Sox'll never win the damn Series…"_

One look in Henry's eyes told Jack his uneasiness may as well have been written on a yellow Post-it not and stuck across his forehead. He kept his gaze steady, waiting for the man to speak. Bea squatted, dropping to eye-level and spoke instead.

"We would like to ask you a few questions, Jack," she started, her voice never faltering from that same smooth quality he had heard on the docks. There was authority in it, but no feeling, like she'd rather be anywhere else but here.

He only stared.

"How did you and your friends come to be on this island?"

There was a tense silence as Jack considered his options. They already knew that. He responded slowly in a barely controlled voice, but did not answer.

"Where's Kate?"

She didn't even flinch. Just crossed her arm across her bent knee and asked another.

"How old are you?"

It was an odd question, but Jack could feel the anger simmering in his chest, burning away all curiousity.

"Where's Kate?" he repeated.

The second time got more of a response, but the tell didn't show in her voice or in her at all. He could hear Sawyer wrestle against his bonds, and the two men behind him scuffling in the dirt.

"Jack, we can do this the easy way or the hard way. Right now, you're telling me you've chosen the hard way. So I'm going to give you a chance to reconsider that decision and I'm going to ask you one more time. How old are you?"

_"It's why the Red Sox'll never win the damn Series…"_

"Where's Kate?"

Bea turned her stare to the floor, shifted slightly and then fixed him again with her indifferent yet direct scrutiny. She nodded once as Henry approached him, coming even closer than she had been, and the burly man not named Tom exited the hut.

"I knew you were stubborn, Jack," he said, an unnerving grin pulling across his sallow face. "I just didn't realize how stubborn. Pickett! Alex!"

The man and the dark-haired girl entered the hut, and at first Jack couldn't determine what they were dragging between them. The instant they let go, and he watched the tumble of waves and blue t-shirt fall helplessly to the ground, a deep gnawing dread began to work alongside the anger in the pit of his stomach.

He barely heard Henry command Pickett for some unknown reason and watched powerlessly as he roughly pulled her to her knees and fisted her hair, supporting her head to force her eyes on him. There was a disturbing panic begging him for help and Jack wondered briefly why she didn't fight back. She acted like she had no control over anything, like she was incapable of movement or support. Something was very very wrong.

A entire catalog of medical knowledge went streaming through Jack's head, his mind searching frantically to match the symptoms with whatever they had done to her. She was alert, the fear in her eyes told him that much. She seemed incapable of her own support. Maybe a drug of some sort? Another sedative? Before he could continue his assessment, Henry filled him in.

"We gave her a temporary muscle relaxant. For the next three to four hours, she'll be completely at our mercy. She can see and hear everything that we do in this room. But we're going to let you decide what happens to her, Jack."

He paused letting his prelude to his ultimatum settle in the room

"You're a doctor, Jack. What do people use gamma hydrobutrylic acid for?" Henry glanced over at Kate and then cocked his head toward Jack, waiting.

Even if he had wanted to answer, Jack suddenly found his mouth had filled with cotton and the urge to scream his fury had been muted by something not in his control. He knew this whole set-up was more for Kate's benefit than his own. He knew exactly what GHB was used for.

"Let me put it this way, Jack," Henry said, looking Kate over with an appreciative eye. "We've been stuck on this island for a long long time. Too long but we've been kept comfortable. There's food here, clothing, shelter… but the female companionship has definitely been lacking. Now, Kate is a very attractive young lady in a very vulnerable position, wouldn't you agree?"

There was a low growl coming from somewhere in the room and Jack was surprised to find it was coming from his own throat. Outward aggression was something he tried to distance himself from. But what they had just proposed cried for murder in his racing heart. Suddenly he found his voice.

"Son of a bitch! You promised you wouldn't hurt her," he snarled, hearing the hatred grating against his vocal cords.

Henry leaned closer and laughed, "We haven't Jack. Just answer our question and we'll leave her be. So we'll ask you again… how old are you?"

_"It's why the Red Sox'll never win the damn Series…"_

He felt like he was betraying them, and he looked Kate full in the eyes, desperately trying to get her to understand. He was sorry to put her through this and he still was going to do anything and everything to keep her safe. He had no choice but to cooperate.

"How old are you?"

Please understand, Kate. I don't want them to hurt you. Please understand I have no choice here.

"How old are you?"

Kate, I'm sorry.

_"It's why the Red Sox'll never win the damn Series…"_

"How old are you, Jack?"

Her green eyes softened slightly and she blinked once, slow and deliberate. Thank you.

"Thirty-three," he answered, his brown eyes locked with Kate's green stare. "Thirty-three."

_"And that's why the Red Sox'll never win the damn Series…"_


	7. Compromises

Red In The Morning 

_**Chapter 7: Compromises**_

"_How long have you been a doctor?"_

They made him relive his life before her, interrogating him about his childhood, his relationships with friends and family, his love-life, everything they seemed to want to know.

"_Tell us about your father. Christian right?"_

As he recounted the troubles with his alcoholic father, she could only sit helplessly, feeling memories of his fireside grief flood her aching heart along with nightmares from her own past. The tears started when his voice filled with a weight she had never heard before, even during the moments when she had fleeting glimpses of the Jack inside the hero exterior he put on for the rest of them.

"_What happened to him?"_

She felt it slide down her cheek, blazing a slippery trail against her skin, and fall from the line of her jaw to the dirt by her knees. Then another fell, making its way down the same path, dampening its trail as if trying to carve its permanence in her face. She tried to hang on to his gaze but his repentant stare could only hold her commiserating eyes for so long until he picked a spot on the dirt floor and turned all his attention to it. She knew her tears were burning him just as badly as they were burning her cheeks, a hot brand labeling them both as betrayers.

"_Is that why you were on the plane?"_

And he was reducing himself to this because of her. The cycle was back. They always got hurt because of her. She was like bad luck, a jinx, a curse to everyone she had ever met. It had started with Sam, and Diane, and then Tom, and then the Marshal, and now Jack.

"_How did you get to be their leader?"_

But this man before her now was everything she's known he'd kept balled inside of him and nothing to what she had expected. If there was ever a definition of broken, she was getting it told to her piece by unbearable piece. _Damaged goods… both of us._ The comment seemed like another ironic twist of fate laughing at them in mockery.

"_Tell us about Sarah."_

She wanted to scream, to fight, to run far and fast until her lungs burned with the rapid intake of oxygen and her legs felt like jelly. She wanted to cry and rage and kick and then scream some more at the unfairness of it all. Instead she sat and drowned herself in her own tears, watching him struggle with the story of his marriage. That was all she could do.

The silence in the hut was thick and stuffy and for a moment nobody moved. Kate felt like she was trying to breathe when the air was saturated with the weight of humidity; she wasn't sure if that was because of the tension or maybe some side effect of the drug. Then a voice sliced through the fog, its nasal tone as sharp as a knife.

"That's enough for today."

Henry turned to leave with Bea close behind him, but he turned suddenly to address Pickett.

"Take her back and make sure she's secured…"

"No!"

Everyone wheeled at the outburst, surprise evident in everyone's face. Despite his flushed and tear-tracked face, Jack's anger and confidence was back. He managed to swallow back some of his rage and Kate saw the familiar abrupt shake of his head. "No," he repeated.

There was an aggression in his voice Kate had never heard before. It came from low in his throat, like the warning territorial growl of a dog when fending off would-be attackers from its bone. Seeing this side of Jack was slightly unnerving, yet somehow she found it strangely comforting.

Henry smiled incredulously, first at the doctor and then at his fellow comrades.

"And what makes you think you can tell us what to do?" He approached Jack, his smile never once leaving his pale and scratched face. "You're not in charge anymore Jack."

"That drug won't wear off for another hour and a half, at least," Jack said. "How do I know you won't go back on your word?"

Kate felt the raw panic snatch again at her breath as the reminder of her situation was voiced clear enough, if not directly, to the room again. Her eyes flicked nervously back and forth and she caught the amusement in Henry's face as he fixed his captive with a condescending stare.

He held the look for a long moment and just when Kate thought he was going to laugh that amusement out loud, he surprised them all.

"All right, Jack."

He motioned some obscure hand signals and Tom rushed towards Jack, bending to sever the ties at his wrists. She felt herself being dragged to her feet and the transfer of Pickett's hurtful hands to Jack's firm hold against her shoulders. Jack held her tight against his body, his arms wrapped around her fiercely as if daring one of them to try to separate her from him again. She shuddered, finally letting her fear take hold now that she could drop her pretense at bravery.

"But only until it wears off."


	8. Side Effect

_My only caution to what you are about to read… this chapter dangerously approaches what some might call fluff. But don't get too comfortable, as this is only a slight reprieve from much more angst that I seem to love to write about for two particular Lostaways. (lowers voice to almost inaudible whisper) And yes, I definitely enjoyed writing this particular section. As always, please read and review!_

_**Chapter Eight: Side Effect**_

Under any other circumstance, Kate would have struggled fiercely against this sort of closeness. Proximity meant weakness, meant dependency, meant danger; her life on the run had taught her that much. The closer she let herself connect with people, the harder it was to turn her back and let them go. Her conversations with clerks at the Wal-Marts, BPs, Giant Eagles had been kept to a bare minimum amount of necessary words. She'd hurried through ordering at Denny's and Cracker Barrel so the waiter or waitress had to make the fewest returns to her table, and her face. Any lingering attachment was a fugitive's suicide. The second she had thought twice about a miniature replica of a DC-3, her relatively cop-free record turned down a dead-end road.

Then again, this wasn't what anyone would consider routine circumstance.

Maybe it was overwhelming relief from her stay in solitary confinement. Maybe it was sheer exhaustion from the events in the last twenty-four hours. Maybe it was just she didn't have much of a choice being drugged and all. Whatever the reason was, Kate felt strangely at ease lying wrapped in Jack's arms.

Somewhere off to her side, she heard the rapid brushing of jean material and the fairly frequent grumbling told her Sawyer was in one of his moods. Probably because he's trying to convince himself Jack's life story wasn't affecting him in the slightest, although she knew he wasn't fooling anyone. She almost wondered if maybe Jack should've left him tied and gagged for their own sanity.

After giving her a quick but thorough once-over and muttering some sort of threat when he had found the dried blood from the vicious syringes, Jack had pulled her into this somewhat intimate embrace and that's when the silence had taken back control. She knew he had fallen into his protective shell, hoping to shelter himself after being so blatantly exposed in front of the two people he probably wanted to hide from the most.

Kate shifted her gaze back to the spot on the side of the hut she'd been staring at before Sawyer interrupted her reverie. For a moment, the room grew noticeably quiet again and she felt herself concentrating more and more the slow deliberate movement of Jack's fingers along her back. She wondered if the motion was more therapeutic for him or for her, or whether it really mattered.

Long loopy circles alternately traced with the flat of his palm and the backs of his fingers from the curve of her shoulderblade to the small of her back. She could feel the langurous rotation of his muscles at the back of her head and the steady heartbeat thudding against her cheek. One of her arms was trapped, but not uncomfortably so, between her body and his; the other resting across his stomach. She watched it rise and fall in unfaltering rhythm, listening to the enhanced sound of his breathing under her ear.

Before she could build much of a resistance, Kate realized she was fighting a losing battle with sleep. Her vision was beginning to lose focus, her eyelids becoming heavy, and she struggled, mustering enough ambition to blink rapidly against the welcoming fog. It was no use, once the thought of a comfortable sleep had crossed her weary and exhausted mind, that became its main priority.

As she drifted further into oblivion, Kate only then recognized the tingling sensation in the tips of her fingers and toes. It was like the pins and needles feeling she got when trying to revive limbs that had fallen asleep. It took her a moment to feel the by now familiar pang of fear as the realization that her time with them was running out. But at this very second, all she really cared about was maintaining this comforting closeness.

Kate couldn't determine before the darkness shut her eyes for good, whether or not she meant for now or forever.


	9. Comparisons

Red In The Morning 

_**Chapter Nine: Comparisons**_

He didn't understand why he was comparing the two; they were so different from each other his mind struggled to grasp how they both had affected him the same way. It wasn't even just isolated to physical appearance, both were so different in their histories, expectations, ideals, needs.

Her hair had always been golden blonde, tamed and flat-ironed to a sleek perfection, the highlights hinting at the expensive styling done every six weeks. Her hair was dark chestnut, wild and waved with an unruly allure, the highlights suggesting the countless hours of natural sun treatment.

Her skin had been spa-darkened and lotioned to achieve its flawless shine, her manicured fingers and pedicured toes accents that she wore with an indoor elegance. Her skin was freckled and sun-tanned to a soft radiance, her clipped fingernails and work-worn palms evidence of her time outdoors.

She had always insisted on wearing high heels, even though she stood at a comfortable five foot nine. She was constantly reminding him of practicality, settling for durable hiking boots that only added an inch to her petite five foot three.

He remembered the endearing worry that had crossed her face when he mentioned an upcoming medical board dinner he wanted her to attend; she had always loved to dress up and accompany him as Mrs. Dr. Jack Shephard. He could only imagine the unnerved dismay she'd fix him with if she had ever had to face the fact that jeans and a tank-top weren't suitable evening attire; she would have bolted for the door, he knew that for a fact.

She had always been openly affectionate, almost to the point of clinginess and he knew that was because her upbringing had taught her no reason to fear the watching public. He could only imagine the guarded uneasiness if she were under public scrutiny and he knew that was because her previous life had taught her to fly under the radar.

It was like how both a frigid winter night and a hot summer day could make him realize he hadn't dressed appropriately for an outdoor existence, even if it was only to walk the twenty yards from his parked car to the ambulance bay doors. The severe gusts of snowflakes and dry air that had laughed mockingly at his worn navy Columbia coat; the intense rays of sun that had poked fun at his modest polo shirt and ironed khakis.

January and August. Two polar opposite months with the same bitter lesson.

Sarah and Kate. Two polar opposite women with the same innate ability.

"Unbelievable!"

The sudden outburst startled Jack from his despondent reverie, his hand momentarily faltering its rhythmic motion across Kate's back. She tensed slightly against him and for a minute, he thought she had been pulled from sleep, but she sighed shakily and relaxed again, her weight comfortably leaning into his side. Jack glanced up and threw the other man a warning glance.

"Of all the times to fall asleep, Princess picks now!" Exasperated, Sawyer tossed his hands into the air, letting them fall back to his jeans with a resounding slap.

"She's exhausted," Jack said, flinching at the sound and watching Sawyer continue his incessant pacing. The forward shoulders and rambling purposeful gait reminded Jack of his tenth birthday, when his father had taken him to the zoo. Jack had watched this one grizzly bear walk the length of his cage over and over, huffing its breath and wheeling on its massive paws after every turn. His father had laughed, but at the time Jack had felt sympathy for the animal. Blinking back the memory, he added as an afterthought, "We all are."

"Well why don't you snuggle up and take forty winks too, Pillow Boy? Don't worry, I'll stay up and do the hefty headwork to save our sorry asses!"

Jack felt the anger welling up inside his chest, but forced himself to keep his voice low in order to not wake Kate. It might not have mattered much he realized. She seemed to be out cold.

"Sayid's coming."

"Right," Sawyer drawled, the sarcasm dripping like acid off his tongue. "Almost forgot about you're A-plus rescue plan. Let's send the Iraqi tenderfoot who's lived in a desert his whole damn life to sail around the Bermuda Triangle with Tuffy the Tugboat! Hell, that might even get you extra credit points for creativity!"

When he finished, he stalked over to the brace he had been tied to, slumping down with his back against it. The look on his face told Jack that reason was not what he wanted to hear right now and what he needed was time to cool off. Jack sighed. He could let the man have his space.

The silence would have been just as tense and heated had he not focused on the sounds of Kate's breathing. Feeling his mind slipping back to drawing invisible connections, he watched the blue fabric of her t-shirt rising and falling in a gentle rhythm, feeling the on and off rush of warm air across his chest. He almost didn't hear her mumble something in her sleep as she shifted closer to him, the hand across his stomach flexing and clutching tightly at his shirt.

Jack felt guilty as a twinge of unsuppressed panic flashed through him at the sign of improvement. The drug was wearing off much to his relief, but that meant they would come again. Despite the dullness throbbing in his right arm, he hoped she'd sleep for hours where he could watch over her. At least then, the anxiety of not knowing what was happening to her would be kept at bay.

He watched her forehead and eyes scrunch, her grip tightening to a white-knuckled desperation as she struggled through her nightmare, debating whether to intervene or let her fight her own demons. As quickly as it had started, the tension left Kate's muscles and an amused smile almost broke through Jack's scrutiny when she sighed and murmured softly into his side. He couldn't help but notice the lack of sadness in her features as she slept.

That was another difference separating them he noticed. Even though they rested behind closed lids, Jack could clearly see her haunted green eyes. There was an anguish constantly clouding the façade of Kate's independence, like a desperate call for help when there was none to be had. A secret she carried so deeply within her, it seemed to radiate its permanence, teasing his head and breaking his heart whenever he caught a fleeting glimpse of it. He had never seen that tormented look in Sarah's clear blue eyes, even in her pleading watery gaze as she lay tummy down on the gurney, that was still just a temporary pain. They both were vulnerable; the difference between the two divided be a narrow line. On one side stood the one that he could fix and knew how to fix. On the other side stood the one that he wanted to fix but wasn't sure how to.

"Why is it different for you?"

For a brief instant, Jack thought someone had taken control of his brain and was using it as a medium with which to voice more questions. A familiar nickname brought his runaway thoughts back to reality.

"Hey Jackass! I'm talkin' to you!"

As if Jack knew how to answer a question like that, let alone what he was talking about. He knew that voicing the inevitable "What?" was exactly what Sawyer wanted him to do, but Jack blew out an exasperated breath before he did so. He was losing his patience with the other man, trying to avoid the confrontations that seemed natural to both of them. Locke had once murmured something about "Too many alpha males in this group," and Jack hated to admit he was starting to agree with him.

The brilliant blue eyes stared at him, not with animosity though his scrunched face would have suggested otherwise, but with an emotion not far from pained acceptance. The strain in Sawyer's voice made that classification distinctly apparent.

"You and Freckles. Why is it different for you?"

After he had said it, Jack realized that he had somehow known that was where this conversation was heading. She seemed to be the hot topic between both of them more and more lately. Strangely enough, it wasn't because they were fighting over her anymore… usually.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Jack sighed, knowing full well that his comment would read like the blatant lie that it was.

"Aww don't play horse hockey with me, Doc! I mean look at Sleeping Beauty!"

Jack did.

"Everyone on this island knows she's got the hots for ya. You've just been too busy playin' Superman to see it…"

If Jack had been standing, he'd have torn his eyes away from his adversary, planted his hands firmly above his hips, and shifted his weight to whatever leg had been resting. But he wasn't standing, so he shifted his eyes, found a spot of interest on the wall to his left and levelled his gaze there, away from him, away from her.

"Sawyer, I'd rather not start this with you…"

"That's the point I'm tryin' to make, ain't it now?"

Hazel brown met vivid blue again.

"You stiffed her pretty hard. After we got back from that tea party with Zeke, she got all quiet and mopey. Every night, right before sunset, she'd wander off down the beach and sit by herself, starin' for hours out into Big Blue. Said she needed space and time to think and all that other girly garbage, but we all knew what she was really doin'."

Jack swallowed with difficulty. He wanted to tell Sawyer to stop, he didn't want to, didn't need to hear this. He knew fully well what he had put her through, those few days. The cold shoulder treatment had nearly killed him once the initial anger wore off. But his tongue seemed like lead in his mouth, resisting any movement.

"You see, she was sittin' there eatin' her heart out for ya, blamin' herself for carin' enough about you to risk her own neck for ya. I even heard her cryin' once when she thought everyone was asleep."

Sawyer paused, letting that image sink into Jack's head. He could see the other man struggling to shut it out, his defense mechanism for anything that caused him too much pain, but Sawyer could also see that Jack was failing in that attempt to do so. He lashed out at him in desperation, hoping feebly to pour some of his guilt back on him. Sawyer had done that so many times in his life too.

"She did the same thing for you!" Jack tried, his voice sounding strangled with his anger and the strain to keep the volume in check. "She watched you day after day when you were sick with that bullet in your shoulder, so you tell me Sawyer! How is that any different?"

Sawyer's brow was creased, but not in the vengeful way that darkened his face with acidic fury. This expression was one Jack had never seen on the southerner before. As if he were trying to explain something difficult and complex to a young child, Sawyer's eyes had softened with a sympathetic look and Jack found himself unnerved under their watch.

"Freckles felt sorry for me, ain't nothin' more to it than that." He paused again, as if unsure whether it was necessary to continue. And then he voiced the one thing that terrified Jack more than anything he had heard that day.

"She loves ya, Jack. That's the difference."


	10. Tensions

_Author's Note: I intended this chapter to be a bit longer, but wasn't sure if I could update it in its entirety before I leave for a two-week vacation. So I split it into two smaller parts and hopefully, part two will be up sometime tonight. Yes, that also means that I probably won't be able to update for a while, but to all my readers, don't worry. I'll still be writing chapters the good old-fashioned way! As always, please read and review!_

_**Chapter 10: Tensions**_

She was caught in the middle of a war. Her mind no longer wanted to surrender to sleep and her body didn't want to transition to fully awake. That meant moving from her comfortable spot and Kate knew she definitely wasn't willing to give that up yet. So she dozed, snuggling against her pillow, as if she were lazily wasting away the few hours of a Sunday morning that made breakfast become brunch.

Except her pillow moved. Even in this state of limbo, Kate was pretty sure pillows were not supposed to move.

This was still a dream, she lied to herself. Wake up, Kate. Just get up. She blinked slowly, allowing her eyes to adjust and buying herself time to control the panic rising in every nerve. Trying to plot out her next move, she heard a dull steady thud under her left ear and noticed that whatever she had decided to make a pillow was rising and falling. She wondered briefly if they had been rescued, before her memory kicked in to full gear.

Nope, there was no boat. There was no rescue. She had fallen asleep on Jack. How the hell was she going to get out of this one?

"Well g'morning, Sleepyhead! Pancakes are on the griddle if ya want some!"

Sawyer, she should have known.

Kate moved to sit-up and was acutely aware of his arms sliding off her lower back. Had he really been holding her that long? She felt her heart jump wildly in her chest and berated herself for reacting like a love-sick puppy. It was just Jack. He would have held anyone who had been drugged and… Kate stopped herself in mid-lie. Why bother?

"Ummm," she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep. "How long was I out?"

"About two hours," Jack answered. He was looking at her, in that concerned way that left her uncomfortable and giddy at the same time. She forced herself to avert her gaze. This was getting ridiculous.

Pretending that being locked in a hut with the two men most interested in her was a completely normal situation to wake up to, Kate feigned indifference and stretched luxuriously. She waited for the familiar twinge from a muscle that hadn't slept well, but none came. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she leaned back against the brace of the hut, forcing herself to ignore Jack's presence to her left.

"How are you feeling?" His eyes were on her again, watching with trained patience for any sign of abnormalcy. She swallowed.

"Like I had a few too many drinks." That wasn't a lie. Her head was throbbing in tandem with her pounding heart and her stomach felt like it was executing the perfect gymnastics routine inside her.

He chuckled. "That's normal."

"I wish I had a drink," Sawyer drawled from across the hut.

They offered him polite smiles at the attempt to raise the tension, even if it had failed.

"Any numbness?"

Kate smiled to herself.

"Nope, I feel just a little stiff."

He nodded and Kate could almost see him crossing off the symptoms on his invisible checklist. Leave it to Jack to examine her as if they were sitting in a first-rate hospital and this was just another routine check-up.

He reached for her wrist tentatively but she didn't resist. If it made him feel better to check her vitals, she wasn't going to keep him from the relief, however trivial it would be.

"Pulse is good," he said, his hand moving to her forehead. His touch lingered a second too long, a feeling not lost to either one of them. He held her gaze and Kate felt powerless to look away. There was something different in his eyes, she thought, like he was searching for an answer he knew wasn't there but wasn't willing to admit its nonexistence.

"No fever," he recovered, glancing away.

Realizing his doctor duties had been worn out, Jack moved to sit back down and though her eyes were still on him, mystified by the change she had glimpsed, Kate knew Sawyer's eyes were watching them both. She had the vaguest feeling she was trying desperately to understand whatever had happened when she'd been sleeping. It was almost like the tension that flamed whenever Jack and Sawyer were together had somehow transferred to settle between Jack and herself.

Shaking off the confusion as an aftereffect of the drug, she whispered a quiet thanks.

"No problem," came the equally soft reply.

They were making her out to be the bad guy again, Alex thought. She walked slowly, careful to avoid the stones that jabbed sharply into her barefeet. But she wasn't fooling anyone, only herself. She was just trying to delay the inevitable.

Henry said that Jack would let her go more willingly. Tom said she would be less of a threat to them. Bea said they'd trust her and they wouldn't try anything stupid. Pickett just handed her a rifle and grumbled, "Get!"

Either way they had slanted it, the end result was the same. "Alex, go escort Kate back to her hut. You be the bad guy. You be the one to piss off the two toughest men we've probably ever captured."

That was why she had refused to drag Kate out in front of Jack and Sawyer before, when they had come traipsing through the jungle in search of Michael. She shuddered, imagine if she had listened then. Both of them would then have twice the animosity to throw at her. Once for that and now for this. She would be a marked person.

The scorching sun glared down from its high-noon point in the indigo sky, as she shaded her eyes to search futilely for clouds. A few mares' tails sailed lazily past, barely thick enough to dim its brightness. Alex scowled, feeling the first beads of sweat forming at her dark hairline. She still couldn't believe that angry fireball had earned her admiration only a few hours before, when it had painted the horizon a stunning shade of vivid red. Now she wished she could shoot it out of the sky.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of the shabby hut, staring uneasily at the closed door. She could hear gentle murmuring inside and felt like she was about to intrude on something she had no right to disturb. Turning her head to survey the area, she saw the flick of a shadow disappear behind one of the other huts. Someone was watching her.

Fine, Alex thought angrily. As if they couldn't trust her to transfer a prisoner.

Her hand found the rough wood of the crudely-built door and shoved hard. She stepped into the cooler darkness out of the blistering sun and away from the eyes of her friend.


	11. Stay Gone

Red In The Morning,  
By Sinking815  
July 14th 2006 

_A/N:Hey everyone! I'm finally back! Here's part two that I tried to get up before I left on vacation. I know it's kind of short and kind of angsty, but trust me. The longer chapters and the Jate is coming! I promise! Once again, I am not claiming any affiliation with LOST and the wonderful people who have made me an addict, and the lyrics used in this chapter are property of Jimmy Wayne's "Stay Gone". As always, please read and review!_

Chapter 11: Stay Gone 

"_I'm not very good at good-byes."_

That moment on the beach seemed so long ago, when their biggest fear was a covered hole in the ground and their greatest hope lay with a raft bolted with bamboo and stray airplane parts. Not like now. Now their biggest fear was their fate and their greatest hope seemed too distant on the horizon to name. Still those words fit in this moment too, as if she had waited those weeks to voice them for the first time, here in this hut and not back on the beach.

There was no real need to say it again; they were both reliving that moment, together. She could see it in his eyes, eyes that had looked away in quiet jealousy when she had given Sawyer a quick departing hug before she rebound and regagged him. She'd had to, secure him, not hug him. Defiance and rash bravery were suicidal when one stood on the dangerous end of a metal barrel.

_So baby, baby, stay_

He was on his knees, back leaning heavily against the hut's brace, the cords from the crude rope burning the agitated skin on his wrists. She had tried to tie him looser, hoping that she could spare him a little bit of mercy, but Alex had ended that effectively with a reverberating click of the safety. "I said '_secure them'_," Alex had commanded, and Kate wondered as she bent, her fingers deftly reworking the rope, where the friendly girl she had talked to only a few hours before had gone.

_Stay right where you are_

She was seeing that intensity again, the look that tried to communicate his thoughts directly to her. It unnerved her and captivated her and she could swear she heard his voice in her head, harsh with disapproval when he was mad, faltering when he was scared, husky when he was happy, soft when he was downcast. Hurley and Charlie had given this sort of "conversation" between them a witty name, one Kate couldn't remember for the life of her as she returned the stare.

_I like it this way_

She tried to concentrate on anything else, focused her mind to the task of tightening his gag, her fingers fumbling when she brushed them unwittingly along the line of his jaw. She chastised herself for her carelessness, feeling her heart thudding heavily in her ribcage, audible enough that she could her the blood pounding in her ears. She hoped he wasn't aware of his effect on her. That would be a dangerous liaison with the truth.

_It's good for my heart_

She continued to stare, powerless to drop it, and not entirely sure if she wanted to. Somewhere, in another life, she might have been disciplined enough to be immune, could spout off some ineffectual lie about guys and make him fit conveniently into the degrading stereotype. Be able to seal off her heart as securely as if she had packed it in bubble-wrap, boxed it with Priority Mail tape and sent it to another continent.

_I haven't felt like this in God knows how long_

But it was his damn hazel eyes and his goddamn hero complex that made her bravado buckle like the imposter that it was. She could see it as she plummeted under his scrutiny, could feel him unravelling like she was a ball of densely coiled string, could see in his eyes that he knew he was capable of that power. That kind of raw exposure unsettled her and she was smart enough to realize that if she wanted to play it safe, Jack was never allowed to see it fully.

_I know everything's gonna be okay_

If there was one advantage Kate had on her side though, it was her stubbornness. She could recognize the feeling bubbling angrily inside her, but that didn't mean she had to acknowledge it. Gritting her teeth, she finally managed to secure the knot with a little more force than perhaps necessary. He blinked, wincing at her harshness, and she took this as her cue to make her escape.

Kate turned on her heel, without so much as a good-bye or apology. She swallowed gamely past the familiar burn in the backs of her eyes and knew that even a brief look back was out of the question now. Tears were the other thing he could never be fully allowed to see.

_If you just stay gone_


	12. Warnings

Red In The Morning 

_By Sinking815_

_August 4th, 2006_

A/N: As stated before, I am in no way affiliated or authorized by LOST in any way, although if you offered me a job, I couldn't refuse! ; ) So no that the disclaimer's out of th way, how about a change of pace? I don't know about all of you but I'm starting to drive myself crazy with this never-ending tension! I almost gave myself a headache with the last few chapters. From all your wonderful responses, it sounds like you're all ready for something more. Don't worry, you've finally gotten to the part where the tension drops out but the suspense comes in! As always, please read and review!

_**Chapter 12: Warnings**_

It was about goddamn time, Sawyer grumbled. Or would have grumbled had his lips not been stretched taut once again with the stale black cloth that left his mouth as dry as Muhammed's desert home. Usually people liked the chance to freshen up after being dragged like a sack of potatoes all night through dense jungle brush. The water they had given him had run right through him and he desperately needed to take a leak.

But what the hell did he know? Maybe that would be like expecting Hyatt Gold Member treatment at the Holiday Inn Express. They had made it clear enough, this motel didn't quite understand the concept of complimentary chocolates left on fluffy pillows. t was a damn good thing they didn't believe in those survey cards that rated hotel staff and accommodations. If ranked on a scale of one-to-five, he'd have marked the option "Other" filling in the black with something along the lines of "Disturbingly creepy and bordering on hellish". Or maybe, the succinct version of "Hell-a-day Inn?"

Tossing the hair out of his face, Sawyer chuckled at his own joke and he looked up, half-expecting Jack to be staring at him in mild confusion.

But Jack wasn't there. Tom and the other man had taken him out, a while ago. Then, Sawyer hadn't thought too much about it, but realizing his missing companion still wasn't back made his stomach curl a little. If there was one thing Sawyer had learned to trust in a world of lies and deceit, it was that feeling—the one that meant bad things were about to happen.

Not that he would ever admit to actually being worried about the doctor. Hell no! That might insinuate that he actually cared for something or someone other than himself. He'd let Freckles do the worrying. She was good at that.

Sawyer's temper ebbed a little at the thought of Kate. The ghost of her snapping to her knees, turning her back on Jack and hurrying from their hut, Alex close behind, flashed before him. His stomach had clenched maliciously then too.

Frustrated at their situation and his helplessness, Sawyer growled to the dead air in the hut around him in a very restrained version of a temper tantrum. Sighing with defeat, he hung his head, his long hair falling past his eyes again.

Something, his stomach was telling him, was out of sorts here.

Something, his stomach was telling him, seemed about to go very wrong.

Something, his stomach was telling him, that he couldn't do anything about.

Kate could tell that Alex wanted to say something to her. That awkwardness had risen the second they had emerged from the hut. That wasn't the only new thing that had risen, Kate noticed with a angry glance to the sky.

The sun was incredibly intense anywhere on the island. But here, it seemed even crueller. The lack of palms may have something to do with it, she mused, squinting past the glare around her. For the first time since she had arrived at the Other's camp, she was getting a good look at what they were up against.

Before she could really commit many of the details to memory, Alex broke through their shared silence with a shaky voice.

"Kate, I…"

The footsteps behind her stopped in their weary trudge and Kate turned to her captor. Biting her lip, Alex averted her gaze to her feet, letting the rifle she carried drop to swing at her side. After a moment's consideration and a surreptitious scan of the deserted yard around her, she let the words flow in a deliberate rush.

"I… We… We were never going to hurt you. We just had to make him cooperate and he said that was the fastest way to do it."

She let her apology trail off, her blues eyes staring at Kate, pleading for forgiveness, understanding, any sign that showed Kate wasn't angry with her. It was the same way Ray had looked when the Marshal tailed his beat-up old pick-up to the station.

And as she had done back then, Kate found herself unable to form her thoughts into comprehensible words, so she just stared.

Alex looked around, nervously again, walking towards Kate and steering her towards the hut she recognized as being the one she spent the night in.

"We should keep walking," Alex whispered, as if realizing her potentially fatal error.

Kate nodded mutely, her mind spinning with the words still hanging in the still air. She barely noticed their quickened pace or the relative coolness of the shade as they ducked inside her hut.

_Make him cooperate?_ She assumed Alex meant Jack, but how did interrogating him about his life mean cooperation? She voiced that much to her captor.

Stealing another cautious glance at the wooden door swinging gently behind them, Alex motioned for Kate to sit with her on the dirt floor and sighed. She sat still for a moment, as if she were a weary traveller that had come to a fork in the road and stood contemplating which path she wanted to follow.

"Jack is your leader, is he not?"

"Yeah…" Kate answered, unsure of where this was going.

"Well, we felt that…" Alex started, pausing as she carefully worked how she wanted to phrase her next statement. "In order to understand your group, we needed to understand your leader and his motives."

The look on her face must have expressed to Alex just how confused Kate was. What kind of answer was that?

"For example, you and Jack are obviously close…," Alex tried again, easing forward to secure Kate against the brace of the hut.

"Wait a minute, what does this have to do with me and Jack?" Kate interrupted, her brow scrunched in suspicion. The sympathy in the other girl's eyes only angered her more. Surely her feelings for Jack, whatever they were, hadn't been that transparent. Who was to say she didn't feel the same about Sawyer too?

"Kate," Alex sighed, tying the knot tightly about her prisoner's wrists. "We knew that bringing Jack here was going to be difficult. And that getting him to cooperate would be even more so. The reason, or the main reason I should say, you're here is because you are his weakness."

Kate stared numbly ahead, her mouth slack with surprise.

"That's why we had to drug you. To make him believe that we were willing to do anything to you to get what we wanted from him."

There was another uncertain beat, and Alex knew what she had to say, but wasn't entirely sure Kate wanted to hear her apology.

"I'm sorry, it was the only way."

Kate nodded, only because it was the thing to do, not necessarily because she was accepting the apology. Alex stood to leave, brushing the dirt from her already dirt-stained pants, and turned towards the door.

The roughly hewn wood felt picky under her fingers and she resisted the urge to lean against it, wondering what she could she say to ease the shock of the woman behind her. Casting one last sorrowful look over her shoulder, Alex swallowed.

"If it makes you feel any better, Kate." She paused, waiting for Kate's name to sink through and continued only when she had the other girl's eyes on her. "We always keep our promises."

As Alex strode across the dusty path separating the two sides of their camp, she failed to notice the dark figure disappearing into the shadows near the hut.

He barely had time to register the butt of the rifle slamming against his cheek before he was face-down in the mud by the river. The rushing water gurgled past his blurred vision and he could swear he heard a familiar voice taunting him in its wake.

He struggled to upright himself, tasting blood in his mouth and resisting the urge to vomit despite the gag tucked securely between his teeth. Split-lip, he thought, hearing his groan of pain mixing with the amused laughter behind him.

Then there was a searing pain tearing across his ribs from a flying boot as he was hoisted to his knees, his bound arms jerking sharply at a strained angle behind him. When the stars had stopped their circular dance before his eyes, Jack managed to make out Tom's crazed face leaning uncomfortably close to his.

"You see, Jack? We don't normally believe in violence," he was saying. "But when the boss comes back from his little trip on your side of the island, with a face so bruised and cut, we," Tom gestured with his finger between himself and the man holding Jack arm's at the high angle. "We find it fair to return the favor."

The other man who Jack had learned was named Pickett sniggered gruffly behind him.

"An eye for an eye right?" Tom laughed in his face and out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw the fist coming before he realized he was going to be hit again.

Then the world went dark.


	13. Secrets

* * *

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 7th, 2006_

_A/N: I tried to make this update longer. There isn't much Jack/Kate/Sawyer action in this one but the Other's are starting to discuss what will become of our favorite three. (Yes now would be the time to insert the creepy smile of one Henry Gale.) As usual, I do not claim affiliation or ownership with Lost; it was merely another episode-less Wednesday and I needed a fix of some sort. I'll drop a hint for the next chapter, nothing too spoilerish though: Because of all the positive responses to the last chapter, Chapter 14 will probably be one of those written from all three POVs again. As always, please read and review!_

_Chapter 13: Secrets_

The sounds of night were evident among the stillness of the few members seated around the pit, but Alex was not one to complain. Small talk was never one of her strong suits so it was just as well that they all seemed to be content with listening to the whirring of the jungle night life to their backs and the rushing surf across the beach just beyond their camp's edge. Aside from the occasional readjustments of arms and legs, everyone gathered seemed worn out from the day's events.

The stiffness across Alex's neck and shoulders made her realize just how trying a day it was. Subconsciously, she brought her hand up to twist the delicate hairs that had escaped from her ponytail, not really feeling pain when she pulled to hard. She was focused intently on the dancing flames in front of her, relishing in the almost too intense heat the glowing orange embers threw at her bare arms and face.

"You're late."

Startled at the sudden voice, Alex glanced up to see a shamefaced Tom and grinning Pickett squat to take their seats on the empty halved-log. Seeing her staring, Tom nodded a slight greeting to those around him, catching her eye specifically and letting the nod expand to his eerie grin. The gleam she saw reflected there chilled her through to her core despite the crackling fire. Did he know?

"Were there problems?" Henry asked.

She pushed the wayward thoughts, blaming the long day in the sun for her heightened paranoia, turning her attention with a dutiful purpose to the speaker, an act any other day she would have cringed at. But right now, it was easier than staring any of her companions in the eye.

"It's been handled, boss," came Tom's gruff reply, sounding ridiculous next the whining pitch of Henry's voice. The slight elbow he threw into Pickett's side did not escape her watchful stare.

"Ford?"

"Shephard."

"I see…" Henry trailed off, the light fading from his eyes like it always did when he was thinking over something with fierce concentration.

The whirring of jungle insects seemed magnified in her head and Alex forced herself to breathe lest she betray her uneasiness. Tom looked too pleased with himself. So did Pickett for that matter, and her mind was drawn to the shadow she had seen earlier in the afternoon. Maybe…

"Are they settled and fed then?"

Once again, Henry's voice was a welcome distraction.

The smug look on Tom's face fell faster than a coconut dropping from its high seat in the palm trees. He and Pickett exchanged a glance, like two kids that had somehow forgotten to do their homework. That look was all she needed.

"I'll do it!" Alex called suddenly, her voice alarmingly loud. She started to rise before Henry waved her back down.

"No," he said. "They can wait a few more hours." The malice in his voice was not lost on any of them and she felt her eyes drawn back to the multitude of healing scars that seemed deeper in the light of the fire.

Finding her seat again, Alex chastised herself for her eagerness to disappear. Since when had she become she edgy? Even when she had helped Claire escape, maintaining her composure among her peers had never been this difficult. Then again, helping three people escape was certainly little more than a chore…

Hold on! When had she even decided she was going to help them get out?

"Today went well," Henry started, surveying his companions with an approving nod. "I didn't expect Shephard to break that easily, but we got what we needed from him." He allowed himself the luxury of a self-applauding pause, his eyes losing focus once again.

Alex glanced down at her lap and immediately stilled her roving hands. A side glance told her Bea had noticed her restlessness, but Alex couldn't tell what the woman was thinking. Her face was as composed as ever.

"But that doesn't mean we're out of Phase One yet," Henry continued. "Tomorrow's another day and hopefully another step in the right direction. Let's do…"

The stillness returned, like silence falling over a green when the crowd watches the golfer in question calculate his hole-draining putt.

"Let's do Austen tomorrow," he said with finality, a barely there smile turning up the corners of his lips. "She might be a little more willing after her experience today. Which reminds me… have you learned anything from Austen?"

He turned his unblinking gaze towards Alex and suddenly the world was collapsing with the following eyes of everyone around her.

"I'm sorry, what?" Alex stammered, trying to buy herself time to cover her tracks.

"I asked if Austen had said anything," Henry repeated. Alex's continued silence prompted him to say more. "Has she expressed any preference?"

"No, she doesn't talk much," Alex said, her words sounding forced and rushed to her own ears. Images of Kate sitting noticeably closer to Jack and memories of their extended pause before she gagged him flashed in Alex's head, the harsh defensiveness at her line of questioning resounding in her ears. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice her unease, as he distanced himself from the flames.

"Well," he replied, "She still has a few more days to figure things out. Tomorrow will definitely help that indecision."

Alex fought back the retort that she never claimed Kate had singled out a favorite, but that would have a dangerous implication that she had a hunch who the girl might worried for. She already felt like she had betrayed her once today. Alex didn't feel like making an encore performance.

Bea's smooth voice interrupted the musings of them all.

"Have we found anything from the labs yet?"

Henry smiled a wide grin, the one that made him look insane, the excitement in his nasally voice making the toothy expression adopt an ever more crazed look.

"Concerning Phase Two, they were all negative to each other, which makes things easier for us. However…" He paused for dramatic effect and even though she was trying to not be as interested as the rest, Alex felt herself leaning forward to catch the words he was about to speak.

"Shephard was positive with someone else we've already tested. Seems to me, he has a family secret I doubt he even knows about."

A restless murmur passed through the group and Alex could only hear the lie she had inadvertently told to Kate only a few hours before.

"_The main reason, you're here is because you are his weakness."_

Even though she had been clearly in the dark about this whole captive situation being large enough to merit phases, Alex still felt the sickening lurch of betrayal. Kate may be able to forgive once; she doubted she'd be able to get out of it twice.

"The tests confirmed that Shephard and Austen are definitely the strongest candidates, but we'll have to see how the next few days play out."

There was a round of nods before Henry dismissed them for the evening with instructions to be ready the next morning at sunrise.

Alex rose steadily, still caught inside her own bubble of tumbling emotions and confusion. As she walked from the group, not quite sure where she was headed, she realized, along with her own voice, she was hearing Tom's again in her head.

_"You wear your heart on your sleeve, girl. In this business, it's easier to not feel. This process is painful enough for them, your sympathy only makes it worse."_

* * *

Watching Tom and Pickett quickly make an exit to what was now becoming known as the "Boy's Hut", Bea stood slowly, the picture of calm and composure amidst a sudden flurry of activity. Her mind was elsewhere and she failed to notice her companion that paused alongside her, watching over the campsite with the attentiveness. His eyes were focused on the teenager heading towards the other captive's hut.

"You think she's going to jeopardize this again?" he asked.

Bea turned to regard him, and then glanced towards the swishing dark ponytail. Now would probably be the time to tell him what she had overheard.

"I kept an eye on her today," she said evenly. "She did her job."

Henry breathed a sigh of relief next to her. He relaxed a moment too soon.

"She's been talking to her," Bea continued. "I heard their voices today when she took Kate back. There was definitely some discussion going on."

He was looking at her for further explanation but she kept her dark eyes staring across the yard to the spot where Alex had disappeared.

"Anything I need to know about?" Henry straightened a little, recovering his composure.

Bea paused, evaluating what she knew and what she suspected.

"Alex told the truth tonight," she finally said.

Henry seemed to think that was enough, nodded and turned a few steps away. Thinking better of it, he looked back at Bea, finding her in the same position when he had first left.

"Keep an eye on her," he ordered, then stalked away into the night.


	14. Disorientation

_Red In The Morning_  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 12th, 2006_

_A/N: Just fixing a slight boo-boo that someone was kind enough to point out! To those of you who reviewed and commented on liking the three POV chapters, this one's for you guys! Once again I apologize for the inconvenient wait, but I can promise there will be another chapter up tonight, or two tomorrow. ;) Hope that lets me back into your good graces at least a little bit. As always, please read and review!_

_Chapter 14: Disorientation_

When he opened his eyes then, he'd been staring into the terrified face of Marc Silverman. When he opened his eyes then, he'd seen the rumpled sheets not left from Sarah's sleeping form, but pulled askew from his own tossing and turning. When he opened his eyes then, he'd been looking up, dazed and bewildered, at a jungle canopy where only moments before he'd been fixated on the glowing orange of the "Please fasten seatbelt" light.

If he opened his eyes now, he'd be reacquainted with those disoriented feelings and the pain they inevitably caused. Right now he didn't want to feel.

So he squeezed them shut. Opening them to the cruel outside world would be to admit that he'd have lived through those horrific moments of his life, would be to relive them in all their terror. He'd learned his lesson. He'd keep them closed.

And then he sighed, letting out the breath he'd been holding, hoping that by freezing he could remain in that suspension of not feeling. That by ignoring and resisting that somehow, the stabs of pain as he inhaled and exhaled, the dull ache he felt across his face, the rhythmic throbbing just above his cheek would fade away into that nothingness.

But even he knew that pretending to flick the off switch in his brain was not going to stop it from returning to reality. He wished they'd hit him again, shut the lights off. It was easier to handle life when the mind and body were two separate entities. He groaned, partly from his own dismay, partly from his own futile resistance, realizing he was powerless to quit, to surrender. He just couldn't face this again, even though, he knew he had no choice.

Blinking slowly, he thought he'd managed to get a handle on the situation and braced for the next blow. He counted the seconds, looking, waiting, praying for something, anything to happen. But it never came; instead, the disorientation he'd tried so hard to stay off was there waiting to prey on his vulnerability.

The clarity came next, along with the intensity of what had been mere throbbing and the questions. He was staring with half his sight up at the thatched roof of captivity, and memories of what Marc Silverman had looked like with one eye swollen shut flooded him. No, no! That was a long time ago. It was irrelevant. Focus, damn it!

The hut he'd been pulled from was back, darker, seemingly farther away. The floor was solid under his back and with a weak flex of his fingers, he grabbed a handful of the dirt and sand, hoping to ground himself against the vertigo he knew would hit him when he sat up. Steeling himself, he crunched forward, grunting with the effort and against the stabbing and aching.

That was the moment his hearing returned.

What the hell did he think he was doing? He said that much to him, to which the bruised man mumbled something past the point of comprehension.

"All right, Doc," Sawyer grumbled. "Take it easy, would ya?"

His hand found Jack's shoulder, pushing him back to the ground. He may not have had the college degree or the privilege of adding M.D. after his name, but Sawyer knew the golden rule of first aid. Don't move.

Jack's left eye was swollen shut, the skin blackened and puffy; Sawyer's stomach turned at the thought of the amount of blood accumulating beneath the skin. A dark trail leaked from a cut on his forehead and merged with the blood seeping from his nose and where his lower lip split. His shirt, dark though it was, looked like someone had dragged it through the mud behind their car. Mud and dirt caked his bare arms and Sawyer could see angry red marks trying to rival the bruise covering Jack's eye.

In Sawyer's opinion, the doctor looked a little beyond band-aids and Neosporin. He didn't have to look around to know that Hell's Camp wasn't about to serve him up a nice little white tin box with the famous red cross marking the lid either. In fact, Sawyer thought, Doc looked like he could use an ambulance and a one-way trip to the ER. But maybe it looked worse than it was. He _hoped_ it looked worse than it was.

Sawyer jumped when he felt a hand close around his arm, interrupting his thoughts. Jack was staring at him, with a confused look on his face. _Or about as confused as one can make their face look after being beaten_.

"Jesus, Doc," Sawyer muttered. "You could have at least waited 'til the odds were in your favor."

He was staring at him, and Jack realized he was waiting for an order, for a command. So he gave him a question.

"Did they…" Jack started, setting his jaw against the stabbing in his sides. "Did they let you out?"

Sawyer chuckled, throwing his hands up slightly and cocking his head to the side with an amused smirk.

"Unbelievable," he drawled. "Hero gets thrown through the blender by two wannabes from Raiders of the Lost Ark and he wants to know if I got to take my piss in peace."

Jack's mouth turned up a little at the other man's flippancy, an attempt at smiling that didn't last long when the burn in his face reminded him viciously that this really wasn't a laughing matter.

The anxiety in Sawyer's chest eased at the sight of Jack smiling, despite his multitude of cuts and bruises. If he couldn't break out the hydrogen peroxide and gauze pads, he could try to distract him from the pain he was sure going through. Hell, Jacko had done the same thing for him, how many months ago?

Sawyer shook the hair out of his face, and answered, "Yeah, I got out." Then he paused, considering how to not make his next statement sound as caring as it would.

"Can I do anything for ya, Doc? I may not have Nurse Freckles's pretty face, but I sure as hell…"

Jack interrupted him before he got too carried away with the thought.

"No, Sawyer." He sighed, winced, inhaled and winced again. "Now we just wait."

She slept fitfully throughout the night. Her body was spent and exhausted after the long day, but her mind just wouldn't slow down. It was on overload, running laps even when sleep did find a chance to claim her for a few minutes at a time. The sleep she did get was shallow at best, almost as if she were dozing away the hours until sunrise brought another trying day.

Whenever her rampaging brain choose to let her rest and drop out of reality for those few precious moments, it never really surrendered its hold. She would dream of times she wished hadn't been, of places she hoped she wouldn't remember, of people she'd never see again or couldn't see again. She'd revisit her childhood, shake hands with her mistakes. Her mind abandoned her in memories that she knew exactly how they ended, but no matter what she did to fix the plot for a different outcome, she'd always be reliving the same ending.

First it was her dad. Not her biological father; she'd learned to forget him a long time ago. She dreamed of the man that would always be her "true" father in her heart, the man she shared a last name with even though she could never be of blood relation. They'd be hiking together in the woods around his base in Washington state. Every once in a while, he'd pause to show her hoofprints in the mud, or antler rubbings against the trunk of a sugar maple, or just to let her short little legs catch up with his long ground-covering stride. Then the rows of trees collapsed together to form solid walls, and Sam Austen's hunting fatigues morphed from the faded greens and browns to the official evergreen of his sergeant's uniform, and his happy smiles dissolved into the quivering lower lip with disappointment as she backed away, now a criminal in his eyes, feeling the betrayal and the lonliness settling their way back into her stomach as she turned and ran.

She awoke to shame.

Then it was Tom. He was always next. No matter how far she managed to get from Cedar Rapids, Iowa, there was no place on the planet far enough to dull his memory. It was like she carried a piece of him inside her, like he had taken a Sharpie marker and signed his name in bold black letters across her heart. She dreamed he used the same marker to write the date on an index card that he folded and placed inside their time capsule. She watched herself hand him the cassette tape that had somehow captured more than just a moment in their lives, had captured promises to be broken and cried over. Then the cornfield had condensed itself to a smashed car and he no longer looked at her with open eyes, and the moistness on her palms was not from the summer humidity typical in the Midwest and was now blood, his blood, Tom's blood, staining her pale skin with a crimson mark, and she bolted.

She awoke to grief.

Then it was Jack. Somehow she'd knew he'd be next. When she first met him back in that hollow on the beach, she'd known he was number three on her list. The longer she watched him grow from fellow survivor to local leader, the more she recognized the easiness with which she could take him and suddenly he fit into Tom's spot or Sam's spot in her childhood. He was a good person, and Kate Austen did one of two things to good people. She either hurt them, or she killed them. It was inevitable and she knew he was next.

But unlike the other dreams, this one didn't have an end that she couldn't stop from coming. It was like this part of her life had stalled, had finally reached a dead end where she couldn't run, or hide, or fight. She seemed stuck facing him, like that day they'd had a stand-off in the jungle, his hand firmly holding her in place, grounding her in her moment of insanity. For once in her life, someone had grabbed a hold of her messed-up self and had held her together when she was sure she was falling apart. That terrified her, because a person like that around someone like her meant one thing—she would destroy him.

She awoke to fear.

Kate stared wide-eyed around her, trying to calm her racing heart. It was a dream, she told herself. They had all been dreams. It wasn't real anymore. That was in the past. Don't think about it anymore, that was…

The door creaked open on its rope-bound hinges and Alex stepped into her hut, a bowl and cup in her hands. And Kate felt the fear strangle her once again.

She knew how this one ended too.


	15. Sailors Take Warning

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 13th, 2006_

_A/N: We get to the chapter that explains the title! Yay! Finally! But it's 1:15 AM and as much as I'd like to keep going (believe me, we're almost to the good part!) I'm going to have to give up the hopes of a double-post. My eyes keep drooping and I'm losing focus staring at this glaring white screen. I definitely will post tomorrow and promise to try my hardest to make it a gigantic long one which shouldn't be too hard considering what's coming up next. Was that enough of a tease? ;) As always, please read and review!_

_Chapter 15: Sailors Take Warning_

Bea stood silently, fastidiously, surveying the waking grounds barely visible in the early grey dawn. To the casual observer, she may have seemed frozen in time amidst the hustle and bustle of her comrades, a dark silhouette against an ever reddening horizon, but her eyes were constantly in motion. They followed a slowly moving Jack and Tom across the empty yard, the doctor's slow progress due to a limp. She could see the determination in his set jaw to not let it become more than that as he passed, his hazel eyes locked with her own indifferent stare, pained and angry, but defiant despite the sizeable bruise across his skin. She offered his emotion and the person who joined her no acknowledgement.

"Ahhh," he interrupted, and somehow she'd known he'd break the serenity of the moment anyway. "I see someone finally tried our security. Didn't make it too far, did he?"

He was smiling. He always smiled, she mused, never turning her head to confirm his expression. One day, sooner or later, he wouldn't be as quick to allow the luxury of power to cloud his focus.

"He didn't try," Bea replied, her voice betraying nothing but the words she needed to say. Her eyes drifted casually away from where the two men had disappeared to another hut closer toward the creek. Alex's head poked out from the thatched wall, her eyes darting about to confirm that the coast was clear.

"Then why…" Henry started, an annoyed tone replacing where arrogant amusement had been.

"Tom and Pickett thought it necessary to avenge the suffering of their boss."

He was staring at her now, but she only nodded a silent greeting as Alex passed before them, one hand on her prisoner's elbow. Kate stared at her feet as she walked, ignoring herself and her boss. Bea watched her intently and was rewarded with the slight movement of the woman's green eyes, keeping a nonchalant lock on where they stood. So she was only pretending.

When they were well out of ear-shot, Henry continued, barely containing the rage at such blatant insubordination in check.

"I told them not…"

"You did," she confirmed. Feeling his frustration radiating off him like waves of heat, she offered him a little more. "You are our leader; he is theirs."

He straightened a little, cleared his throat and turned his blue eyes to the backs of the two headed towards the nearby stream.

"No, that's good," he said, nodding. "If she gives us trouble today, we'll use him."

Bea did not feel it necessary to reply.

Strange, Kate thought as she stared at her worn boots, that she had almost been looking forward to the morning walk to the stream. The beginnings of claustrophobia had settled around her frayed nerves and she knew fresh air and a few minutes away from the memories would steady herself a bit after the rough night.

The dull thud of rubber soles against compacted dirt gradually transitioned to the crunch of pebbles before she paused at the edge of the gurgling water, not really feeling her hands being untied, as her mind drifted backwards until the water faded out of sight entirely.

"Kate?" Alex questioned softly.

Only then did she blink rapidly, rubbing away the remnants of water and exhaustion that clung to her dark eyelashes. Focus, Kate told herself, squatting awkwardly on the bank. Wake up!

The water bit into the palms of her hands and cheeks, and she splashed her face repeatedly, wallowing in its refreshing chilliness. Taking a deep breath, she watched the drops fall from the tip of her nose back to the rushing stream. Kate stared hard into the shallows, mesmerized by the swirl of her reflection as the heavy drops rippled along her face. Tearing her gaze away from the water, Kate rocked back on her heels and tried to distract herself from her wayward thoughts by focusing on the horizon.

It was going to be a beautiful sunrise. She could see that even now. The edges of the sky were tinged salmon pink and were brightening in intensity with every passing minute. The few clouds in the sky darkened from a misty blue to deep purples, adding to the contrast of the violent reds peaking over the profile of the highest peaks on the island. Somewhere, she mused, just on the other side of this mountains was home.

No, that wasn't right. Kate frowned, her eyebrows scrunching at her mistake. Home would always be Iowa, would always be that huge oak tree in the middle of Mr. Brennon's pasture where she and Tom had often watched the sunrise over the never-ending fields. Sometimes, in the summer, they'd return at twilight, and scramble into the branches to watch the sunset, balancing ice cream in their hands. They'd sit for hours afterwards, pointing out constellations and chocolate smears at the corners of each other's mouths, laughing about the events of the day.

She remembered once, before college had stolen him away, climbing into that oak and sitting in comfortable silence as the sky started its colorful show, the sun sinking into a brilliant spectacle of crimsons and violets. He had said something, softly, as if whispering a secret to the horizon, and her mind seemed to recite the words with him now as she watched the sun ascend over the island.

"_Red in the morning,_  
_Sailors take warning._  
_Red at night,_  
_Sailors delight."_

She remembered laughing at the rhyme, and teasing him about its silliness. Here he was, sitting in a tree, on the brink of manhood, on the precipice of his future, and all he could say was an old sailor's superstition.

"_It made you laugh, Katie."_

He had paused, staring at her intently, and she remembered squirming under his scrutiny. She knew what he was thinking, what he was seeing, and wondered how he knew. Somehow he had always known.

But Tom was never one for confrontation and let it slide as he had done so many times before. He had trusted that when she was good and ready, she'd confide what troubled her, what made her want to put Cedar Rapids to her bumper and never look back. He had learned too late that she would never trust back. That ability had been destroyed long before he had even suspected something amiss.

"Kate? We have to go back now," Alex said softly, as if she knew she were cutting in on something she had no business interrupting.

Gritting her teeth around the tightness in her chest, Kate nodded her silent understanding and turned her back to the sunrise. She pressed away the excess moisture with the back of her still-cold hand, blaming it on staring too long into the harsh morning light. She took a determined step away from the bank, but turned back with one last glance toward the sky.

The sun was almost all the way up now. It hung low in the sky, but already the vivid reds where dulling in intensity, easing up the burning glare that threatened her watering eyes. Kate swallowed angrily around the knot in her throat, and looked away. Enough was enough, she scolded herself, spinning on her heel.

No more looking back. Even though her eyes were on the path before her, she could still hear his voice echoing inside her head.

"_Red in the morning,_  
_Sailors take warning…"_


	16. Interrogation

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 14th, 2006_

_A/N: Here's that gigantic post… over two-thousand words and almost six pages and I can no longer keep my eyes open to continue. Consider this part one that leaves you with a nasty cliffhanger (sorry that's what happens when the caffeine no longer works) just like they do on Lost when it breaks over the holidays, except without that evilly long wait! I'm sure that's exactly what you all wanted to hear, err read. Anyways, here it is… Enjoy!_

_Chapter 16: Interrogation_

So this was why they had to hurry, Kate thought bitterly. Just so she could be dragged back to her hut, tied up again, and then could listen to the four of them talk over her head as if she weren't right there, alive and breathing, in front of them. Every once in a while, Alex glanced warily over at her when comments passed between Bea and Tom or Tom and Pickett and she wanted to growl her impatience to anyone. Whatever they wanted to do with her, they may as well just do it. She was tired of this waiting.

Waiting, sitting still, doing nothing let her mind wander to places she'd rather not visit. Or at least, she wanted to control when she let it off its short leash. But this was like Chinese water torture. Drip by drip, her nightmares, her memories, everything she wanted to forget was slowly being repainted in her mind. And Kate knew from experience, no matter what she tried, distracting herself never worked—and she had tried a lot of things.

Just when her mind was starting to replay the conversation between the Marshal and the Australian security guard at the Sydney airport, the gentle murmuring stopped. _That_ got her attention, although when she looked up to see another person in her life she wished she could just forget.

Henry smiled a particularly condescending grin down at her and Kate felt something like hatred settle in her stomach. Something cold and estranged from her normal self that had emerged only one time before in her life, leaving its deadly mark on everything in its path.

"Good morning, Katherine."

She glared a silent greeting in return.

"Not talkative today, are we?" he asked, after a tense moment of nothing but an angry green stare. He chuckled to himself. "Well, that's unfortunate because we wanted to talk to you today."

_Then go ahead and talk_, Kate thought. _I'm a good listener._

"Jack was most helpful to us yesterday," Henry said, nodding as he spoke. "We learned a lot about him and hopefully we'll learn more in the next few days, but right now, we want to learn about you."

Kate glanced surreptitiously around at the five faces before her, trying to gauge a reaction. Tom and Pickett looked overly eager. Alex looked anxious and uncomfortable. Bea looked bored. And Henry stared at her with those cold blue eyes that seemed to bore right through her.

"We'll start off with some questions," Henry said, kneeling to try to hold her gaze.

If it was intimidation he was going for, he was going to have to try a lot harder than just staring. She had learned the easy way to win stare-downs long ago. Stop participating. Suddenly, the dirt in front of her knees was very interesting.

"How old are you?"

Like she was going to answer that.

"No? We'll come back to that one. Why were you travelling with a Marshal, Kate?"

Like she was going to answer that either.

She heard his movement as he stood back up and the silence after told her he was inhaling slowly to hold his patience in check. The Marshal had done that a lot with her.

"Kate, do not make this difficult. You know what we did yesterday and you know we're willing to do it again."

She could hear the anger he was trying and failing to suppress in the slight tremor in his voice. Maybe if she played this right, she could tease that out of him and then he'd be too frustrated to deal with her anymore. She had done that a lot with the Marshal.

"So beat me then," she snarled. "Do what you want with me. I won't talk."

As soon as she said it, she knew she had miscalculated somewhere. The tension in his face faded away into something bordering on surprise and amusement. That was never a good sign. And then he laughed and another evaluation of the faces around her further cemented her mistake in her mind. Tom and Pickett looked even more eager. Alex's anxiety bordered now on blatant fear and uneasiness. Even Bea looked somewhat entertained.

"Oh believe me, Kate," he snickered. "We know the more we mess with you, the more you'll clam up inside yourself and the harder our job will be. But we still have two of your friends just across the way and please don't make us drag them into this too."

As he talked, he walked towards her, leaning his face close enough Kate could see the pink scars from cuts he had sustained from his stay with them. She didn't flinch at his proximity even though her stomach was rolling with waves of nausea.

"How old are you?" he asked again.

She bit her lip and narrowed her eyes defiantly. Nope, still not talking.

"Pickett," Henry commanded, never dropping her gaze. "Get him."

Kate followed him out with her eyes and caught Alex staring at her, a sad expression on her face. For a split second, Kate felt her heart skip a beat, unnerved and worried, and a chill shivered its way down her spine. Kate had seen that look before three years ago, on a sergeant in a recruiting office. The look that alienated her from him. The look that told her he didn't know who she was anymore.

That look always ended in her shaking hands with an emotion that had been her constant companion ever since, and she couldn't help but feel it now.

Regret had just entered the hut.

"What do you mean you saw him?" Jack asked, trying to keep his voice low and wincing from the effort. Overnight, the sharp stabs of pain along his ribs had dulled to a constant ache, the spasms only returning if jarred or irritated by movement. Talking was considered movement apparently.

"I told ya," Sawyer whispered back. "I was zippin' up the denims and looked up and saw Muhammed with dirt all over his face like he was playin' Cowboys and Indians."

"Are you sure?"

"Now why in the hell would I make that up, Doc?" Sawyer asked, irritated and instantly on the defensive. "I made a point of getting' myself kicked out during storytime in school."

"All right, all right." Jack would have held up his hands in the universal gesture of surrender if they had not been secured behind his back. He sighed and let his head fall back to lean against the pole, ignoring the burn in his chest as he breathed in and out slowly, contemplating their next move.

"So what's next?" Sawyer voiced the question as if he had read it right out of Jack's mind.

Jack never got the chance to answer. A large shadow passed over the patch of light he had been focusing on and the space in the hut darkened ominously. The question hung in the air, forgotten.

The door swung open and Pickett strode through, circling behind Jack and bent to untie his captive. He hauled him roughly to his feet and Sawyer heard the sharp intake of breath as Jack struggled against what he could only guess was something bordering on agony. Sawyer had been in enough bar fights to know he had cracked a few ribs.

"Let's go," Pickett growled, pushing the doctor towards the still swinging door.

Jack caught Sawyer's confused stare as he stumbled past and knew the same expression was reflected back at the southerner. It was too early for another refreshment break; they couldn't have been let out more than half an hour ago.

What the hell was going on?

As Sawyer watched the door swing behind them, he muttered the one thing he always did when he didn't know what to say.

"Sonofa…"

The moment Pickett walked through the door, Kate felt all eyes turn to her, waiting for the reaction they knew would come. Pickett shoved him hard and he fell to his hands and knees, grimacing at the impact that visibly shook him. When he looked up, Kate felt her heart break cleanly in two. What had been emotional pain that she had been staring at less than twenty-four hours ago was replaced with a haunting agony she had never seen in his eyes. Not even when he had dislocated his shoulder.

Then she felt the rage and whipped her head to find Henry watching her with that same amused look on his face.

"You son of a bitch!" she yelled. "You promised Michael you wouldn't hurt us!"

Henry shook his head as if he were about to explain something complex and intricate to a three-year-old. "I did Kate. I promised that, but I assure you, I had nothing to do with this."

"Like hell you didn't!"

Her eyes darted between Henry's astonishment at her change in behavior and Jack, still braced against his fall. Her heart was racing and the familiar urge to run was making her fidget at her restraints. What had they done to him?

She watched helplessly as Pickett forced him up on his knees and it was only then Kate got a good look at exactly what had been done. His left eye was completely swollen shut, the skin around it a sickening shade of dark purple. Dried blood left a dark trail from a long gash over his right eye, eventually merging with the blood that had leaked from his split lip. The front of his shirt was speckled with drops of blood and the right side of his shirt was caked with dirt. Angry bruises glared back at her eyes from patches along his arms, making a contest out of the bruises her mother used to sport after one of Wayne's drunken rages.

_"Red in the morning…"_

Kate bit her lip and didn't dare look him in the eye. She'd lose all control if she did that.

"When I was on your side of the island, one of your friends left me in a similar condition after I failed to answer his questions. When I came back," Henry said, pausing to make sure he had a captive audience. "Some of people weren't too happy with my treatment and decided to extract revenge when they felt it necessary. You know that saying, 'An eye for an eye', don't you Kate?"

She swallowed hard, past the anger and the hurt and the panic. She could feel herself withdrawing from the situation, trying to hide within herself as if that would make this nightmare disappear.

"_Sailors take warning…"_

"So about those questions, Kate…" Henry continued. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-seven," she replied, the words coming out awkward and strangled, her eyes never leaving Jack.

"_Red in the morning,_  
_Sailors take warning…"_

"And why were you travelling with a Marshal, Kate?"

She saw Jack glance up and he stared incredulously at her across the room. For a second, she faltered, realizing that this interrogation was about to become more revealing than perhaps even they suspected. How long had she hid behind her past? How long had it been since he last asked her a question so similar to the one before her now?

_"Red in the morning,"_

"Why were you travelling with a marshal, Katherine?"

_"Sailors take warning…"_

She was in a daze, feeling like her life was condensing around to this moment and she froze, uncertain and exposed. She heard Henry repeat the question, heard Tom reciting that sailor's rhyme, heard her heart pounding in her head, heard a dull thud as a boot found its mark, heard the grunt of his distress, heard the impatience in Henry's voice as he asked her again, heard the impact of the rifle against bone, heard the groan of agony ripped from his throat…

"STOP!"

And suddenly the world was still again, and they were all watching the first tears roll down her cheeks as she opened her mouth to answer.


	17. Truth

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 15th, 2006_

_A/N: There's really no way to get around this, so take this as the official warning tag for this chapter: The following contains sensitive material and adult situations. Not anything graphic, but still not for the faint of heart. This would be where the "T" rating on this fic comes into play. So as always, please read (with that in mind) and reviews are still as welcome as ever. _

_To those of you who have dropped comments, I'd thought I'd also take a moment and thank you all sincerely for your kind words and dedication to this story. I've never been big on writing stories with commitment (yes, I am like Jack in that sense) but with all your support, it's made the road that much easier to travel. It is much appreciated._

_Chapter 17: Truth_

The two tickets on the desk were just another harsh reminder of why she was sitting in that chair, wrists bound together in cold steel handcuffs, cold and irritating against her skin. The fluorescent overheads seemed to exaggerate the bold font printed in tidy rows of the boarding passes making it scream her failure as if she weren't aware that her career as a fugitive had reached a dead-end.

**OCEANIC AIRLINES Flight 815**

**Destination: LAX**

She'd never flown that airline before, but then again, she'd never had a reason to fly. Her own two feet had served her well and even when they had failed, a rusty car with a muffled clunking whenever she hit the brake and a trunk full of salvaged license plates had stepped in to pick up the slack. That was, until he had started chasing her.

Edward Mars, US Marshal. Her best enemy and her worst friend. The man law enforcement had turned to when the lone sheriff of Cedar Rapids, Iowa realized he was sixteen hours too late to apprehend Katherine Austen for the murder of Wayne Jansen and the destruction of private property. The man who had come dangerously close to knowing the full truth behind her motive, but after three years of running, she had learned he backed off when she defensively denied that truth whenever it was voiced.

Several times, when she was behind the wheel watching her lastest haven disappear in the rearview mirrow, she wondered if he had been assigned to her by her father, the only man she had ever really considered her "Dad". She knew when she visited his office, he'd have to call her in, but in her moment of insecurity, in her first few moments as a criminal, he'd still been there for her to lean on, just as he always had been. Sometimes, as she drove the long and hostile highways, she could pretend she was five-years-old and he was taking her away from that small farmhouse, away from a situation no young girl should ever have to face, away from _him._

Wayne Jansen. The name that made her blood boil, that made her insides twist, that made her nauseous, that made her dizzy, that had made her a murderer. Even though she had thought she'd taken care of the problem then, erasing him completely from the planet with the flick of a gas switch, the name still loomed over her like a personal thundercloud, the first black mark on her relatively spot-free life.

That name that was half the blood coursing through her veins and she despised him for everything he was and everything he had done and was going to do.

The Marshal had somehow learned of Wayne's love of alcohol and she remembered the look of arrogant satisfaction as he repeated her life history to the windshield wipers on that rainy night, the first time she had ever been caught. She remembered wanting to cry in rage and frustration at the way he rattled off painful memories like they were statistics to be analyzed for no better reason than to sound intelligent.

"_Sounds like you got it all figured out," _she'd retorted, hoping to silence him. She didn't want to hear anything but the rain pounding on the roof of the car or the road noise as they drove. She didn't want to hear it all over again.

But that was the thing about men of authority. When they were right—and she couldn't argue, he had his facts straight—they just never knew when to quit. And when she felt hounded and trapped, she resorted to desperate action, like swerving a car into a telephone pole.

"_I do have you all figured out," _he'd said.

He had been close. He had been closer than anyone had been to understanding her in a long time. But even he didn't know her well enough then to know that when she wanted to hide herself from prying eyes, she dug deep inside herself and lied through her teeth. Her mother had taught her how to do that.

_"He come knocking on your door late at night?"_

Diane Jansen who used to have been Diane Austen and in her opinion, should have stayed that way. Her Ma, the best and worst role model a girl could have. She knew a part of that woman had rubbed off on her, both the good things and the bad. Tom used to laugh at her work ethic and joke about how similar she and her mother were, how their foreheads furrowed and their eyebrows scrunched when her mom scrubbed viciously at a stain marring the white surfaces of the diner counter or how she furiously worked her calculator for an answer to that night's Algebra assignment. He never laughed at their stubborn streaks however, that side of their characters that also made them good liars.

"_He never touched me."_

And that was the one moment of her life, she wished she could forget, could take the end of a No. 2 Eagle pencil and rub and rub until she'd ripped away all the paper that documented that stormy summer night. She'd never had nightmares about cops, or car wrecks, or the death of friends, or plane crashes. Her dreams were always haunted by him and the putrid smell of alcohol and thunder and lightning. She'd never forget how she couldn't look anyone in the eye the few days after, afraid they'd see her secret. She'd been fifteen-years-old.

There had been just enough malice in her voice to make the Marshal back off her secret and though she'd never admitted even that much to Tom, somehow he had always known that if he'd asked, she would've told him the same thing. Both had dropped the subject after that, the Marshal not realizing how close he'd been, Tom not knowing how to deal with the truth. Her mom never once suspected; she'd thought it was just the ups-and-downs of high school and offered an ear that was always refused to the point where she just stopped asking.

A few days later, the official first act of her criminal record had started. Living in a small town, where everyone knew everything about everyone, was at times a blessing and at times a curse. This had been one of those times when she wished she could have had the anonymity of the city girls in big towns whose faces were not recognized by the manager of the general store. The rotund grandmotherly lady who adored her since before she could remember had waved and smiled brightly and she had felt even more guilt at what she was about to do. That was the day she became accountable for an act of larceny, swiping the pregnancy test and bolting for the door.

It had been negative and she remembered how she had sat on the edge of the tub, the water running to muffle her sobs, crying with relief and crying for the future she had contemplated if it had read the other way. She had wiped her eyes, twisted her dry hair up in a towel and splashed her face with cold water, flushing the test down the toilet on her way out, when her mother had yelled up the stairs that her dinner wasn't going to wait for her another minute. That evening at dinner, she'd been back to "normal spirits" as her mother had said. She didn't dare look across the table at Wayne.

Kate sucked in a quivering breath, choking on a sob and glanced about the room. She could see them all avoiding her red and puffy eyes, could see Alex kicking at the dirt with her toe, could see Pickett and Tom exchange embarrassed looks, could see actual emotion in Bea's eyes, could see the slight gap between Henry's non-existent lips.

But what she saw most of all was the horror, the shock, the rage, the hurt, the sympathy in his hazel eyes. They stared at each other, one covered with fresh blood and sweat, the other drowning in flowing tears, until Kate couldn't see clearly anymore through her blurry vision and the only thing to be heard was her the sound of her painful recollections.


	18. Aftershocks

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 17th, 2006_

_A/N: So sorry that I didn't update last night; I really wanted to, I did. But I sat down ready to write more angst and seriously the only thing I could think of doing was listening to crazy songs on my iPod and writing fluffy little scenes of after after after our favorite trio get back from their "time-out" corner. And that's definitely not the mood of this chapter that you are about to read ; ). As always, please read and review!_

_Chapter 18:Aftershocks_

They were all in shock, at least to some extent, and if they each hadn't been smothered in their own thoughts and reactions to the confession still hanging in the air around them, the dead stillness of the atmosphere might have sent them into it. They were frozen in one of those moments that seems like someone had just pressed "pause" and walked away from the television, leaving their lives to be forgotten and held suspended forever in that screen capture. But even Alex knew, that moments like these must eventually come to an end.

So she breathed, shallow and quick, trying not to be the first to break that suffocating serenity, not wanting to further add to Kate's shuddering shaky gasps. Alex felt that to intrude on her moment of grief would be as irreverent as profanity in front of children. One just did not do it.

Apparently he didn't know that, and when he broke into the constricted silence, clearing his throat awkwardly, she wanted to scream and rage at his insolence, especially since _he _had been the reason this woman was a trembling mess on her knees before them and they all stared at her as if she were a demon from their nightmares. Even her friend was watching her with the bewilderment and pain that comes hand-in-hand with having one of your strongest beliefs stripped to what you refused to accept before your own eyes. His eyes looked haunted.

"Very good, that'll be enough for today," he said, his voice sounding obscenely loud as it ricocheted of the thatched walls around them. He walked a few steps and halted between him and her, staring around him like a general who finally realized he had conquered his enemy. "Pickett, take him back."

Alex watched him be hauled to his feet, watched Pickett guide him through to exit the hut and was keenly aware of his eyes. They never moved from her, the look of astonishment never faltering even when he tripped over his dragging feet and almost went to his knees again had Pickett not been firmly gripping his arms. She also noticed, Kate seemed to come to, snapping out of her trance long enough to lock gazes with him and she felt something tingle her spine and make the hairs on the back of her neck rise, like she had been a mere six feet away from an earth-shaking explosion. Glancing around, she saw even Bea seemed to notice the change in their captives.

"Alex."

The sound of her name made her jump visibly.

"Get her some water and towels to clean up with," Henry commanded, gesturing towards Kate.

She nodded her understanding and nearly followed them out, when she paused to look back. She was still sitting there, her small body racked intermittently with a violent tremor, staring distantly at the door he had passed through. And Alex wondered, how much they really knew about the people they were holding.

She almost opened her mouth to speak, feeling the need to apologize like she was the reason Kate had had the past she did and it was her fault she was trapped her and forced to reveal secrets no one knew how to handle. She almost did, until she realized, as she had thought before, that now was not the time or place for apologies. Like interrupting a necessary silence, saying sorry now was just as inappropriate.

"What the hell happened, Doc?" Sawyer demanded, leaning against his restraints, not even caring that Pickett was still in the room and could hear every word rolling off of his tongue. Let the goddamn hillbilly listen. As if he wasn't a part of Jack's sudden disappearance.

But years of learning to read people served him well and as Pickett left the hut, without so much as a word or glance at him, Sawyer noticed that the winds of operation in Othertown had changed.

"They drag you out of here like they're on a goddamn warpath, then I hear Freckles yellin' and…" Sawyer stopped dead in his sentence, noticing the wounded look cross Jack's face, the same one he'd tried to hide when he had told him about his father in the Australian bar.

"They made her talk," he asked, getting a good long look at the fresh blood leaking from the cut above Jack's eye. "Didn't they?"

Jack nodded, barely, scrunching his face and fighting back his emotion, holding his own even though Sawyer knew he was going to lose. Years of learning to read people had served him _very _well. He found himself, nodding along with the doctor, and said softly, almost inaudibly, "And you were bait."

Sawyer knew then that what he had told Jack just over a day ago had finally sunk into his brain and was beginning to wreak the havoc that only a realization of that magnitude could do. He had fallen for a girl like that years ago, and just like any other job, he had screwed her over too.

He knew the "I told you so" didn't need to be said.

Jack felt even more dazed than he'd been when Ethan had caught him with a left hook so strong the world around him had spun. Who knew that one girl could leave him feeling like he'd been spun right off the face of the Earth? He felt numb and empty as her words played over and over again, stuck on a loop, cemented into his mind.

Jack wasn't sure how he felt really, now that he knew the truth. Somewhere back when their arguments were about whether it was safer to stay at the beach or move deeper into the jungle, he'd forced himself to believe that maybe she was a cold-hearted killer, forced himself to accept that Kate he was talking to, flirting with, seeing everyday was a mirage, an image he projected onto her because that's what he wanted to see. So when she had confirmed that that image he had so desperately not wanted to believe but had ended up "accepting" was the real figment of his imagination, he'd been relieved and stunned and hurt.

There was a part of him that wished she were that unfeeling murderer because then that meant she wouldn't be the broken woman he now saw everytime he looked at her. Like she was ruined, no not ruined. A person as strong and proud as Kate could never be destroyed; she had just revealed that she was on the brink of destruction, had been since that terrifying summer night when she was fifteen…

_Damaged goods_, she had said a few days ago. That had been his biggest clue yet and he had missed it. Fifteen! She had been broken when she was fifteen-years-old and she had carried that secret with her, had lived through the torment by herself, had stared at that toy airplane with no one to turn to.

Even now he could feel, her hurt, the damage that had been done and for once, her rage and the doctor in him, the man who had sworn himself under the Hippocratic oath to do no harm to any being, could actually justify her need to kill and felt himself reach out to her, encouraging revenge. For a brief second, he could see himself rigging the line to end the life of a man he couldn't even put a face to.

And Jack knew he couldn't, could never joke about color preference and sew up her back up, could never promise to make it go away, could never protect her from her nightmares, could never erase that look of despondency in her green eyes, could never _fix_ her.

That was what destroyed him.

The metal bucket still managed to carry its burden across the dusty ground, despite years of use and abuse, despite dents and scratches, despite its despicable life as water transport. And Alex silently cursed it for being so heavy and thanked it for carrying so much as she lugged it under the glare of the bright afternoon sun.

She dropped it awkwardly, feeling her muscles sighing with relief and the faint tingle of strain rushing through her blood. She left it, sitting alone and isolated just outside the stockhut, returning with a few ragged towels thrown over her shoulder and a small cloth to dull the bite of the thin handle against her palm. Then she hoisted the dead weight from the ground, the water sloshing dangerously, a few drops spilling to stain the dirt a darker brown and walked on.

She'd only gone a few yards when she heard voices off to her right and glancing in that direction, saw two shadows discussing something. Knowing she shouldn't but not really caring, Alex crept back to the safety of the opaque stockhut walls, pressing her back against that thatching and listened.

"Whaddya mean we're letting on of 'em go?"

She recognized the voice as Tom's.

"He said we don't need all three anymore, that she made that clear enough today…"

That was Bea, she thought, her brow scrunching with concentration.

"So you mean we're letting Ford loose…"

"No. He said it was going to be her choice."

"Oh, so that way we learn who she's closer to…"

Alex panicked when his voice trailed off into silence and risked a peek around the edge of the hut to make sure they hadn't left. She shouldn't have worried, Bea was nodding her affirmations, returning to her usual succinct expressions.

"And when is this going to happen?"

"Tonight, after she's settled a little."

There voices were coming closer and Alex knew instinctively that this meant her unknown stay was about to become a very unwelcome greeting. She barely felt the weight of the bucket and rushed away from the stockhut, heading with renewed purpose to Kate, feeling that maybe she could regain some of her trust with this new information.

But even in her hurry, Alex didn't quite make it out of earshot before the last sentence evaporated to the blue afternoon sky.

"I guess you don't need to remind me to keep Alex out of this decision then."

The silence after told Alex, that Bea was nodding again.


	19. Lying

Red In The Morning 

_By Sinking815_

_August 19th, 2006_

_A/N: Sorry this chapter's kinda short, it was just the way to end it though without cutting you all off in a more worse spot, ( I know, this was vicious enough) but the next chapter is going to be looooonnnggg! So at least you all can look forward to that! As always, please read and review._

_Chapter 19: Lying_

"Do you want something from me Alex?" she snapped, letting her hand push the rag into the water with enough force to slosh some of it over the sides of the metal bucket in violent waves. The morning had left her feeling irritable and defensive.

"Kate…" she hesistated, as if unsure that her status with the woman before her still left communication open to first-name basis. "I need to tell you something—something important."

She knew she was staring at this girl with a look that must have told her that she was willing to do anything besides listen to whatever regrets, apologies, insincerities she was about to spout off. But Alex took her silence as permission to continue.

"They're going to let one of you go, one of _them _go…," Again, the pause, deliberating whether or not to reveal a piece of inside information because of uncertainty of relevance or fear of reaction. The second the words came out in a jumbled rush, Kate knew her incerititude was from the latter.

"But it's going to be your choice."

And suddenly she was suspicious, on guard again and willing to crawl back inside her shell to protect herself again. Slowly, after a short tense silence, Kate asked, "Why?"

"I'm not sure," Alex blurted out, the truth escaping her lips faster than her mind could comprehend how ridiculous and doubtful that statement must have sounded. She recovered quickly, her words tumbling of themselves in the race to be heard.

"But I overheard Bea and Tom talking and that's what they were saying," she finished lamely.

Kate wanted to believe her, could see in the girl's pleading blue eyes that she wanted her to believe her too. But Kate also knew, that trust is what people did when they wanted someone to screw over. Even though Alex was showing more and more signs everyday of the rift she had sensed when first brought to their camp, Kate knew to proceed with caution. She was still one of them.

"And why are you telling me this?"

The question was generous, even if it did sound accusing, and Alex knew if she was going to win her way back in Kate's good graces, she'd have to come clean on everything.

"Because I'm being kept out of the loop," Alex said, the very faint traces of the closest this girl would come to anger edging their way into her soft-spoken voice.

As she looked at her now, waiting for Pickett and Tom to return, under the ever present scrutiny of Henry and the indifferent yet watchful eyes of Bea, Kate could see that fury starting to make the blue in Alex's eyes boil. Her jaw was set determinedly and the unblinking stare into her own eyes was evidence enough that she had been telling the truth, with no other reason than to tell it.

Kate knew then, she had found her ally.

Before that realization could develop into the infant stages of an escape attempt, they returned, with two beings in tow that were meant to surprise and confuse her. Kate did her best to adopt Bea's attitude and when acknowledging their presence meant she could feel the slight cracks begin to deepen, she averted her gaze to stare at Henry. She was demanding an explanation she already knew.

"It has become clear to me, to us," Henry started, looking each of his captives in the eyes, "that we overestimated our need for the three of you."

Kate stared, her lips firmly pressed shut, her eyes defiant. Jack stared, his mouth stretched by a now familiar gag, his eyes concerned. Sawyer stared, his teeth sinking angrily into the gag, his eyes confused.

"Unfortunately for you, Kate…" he continued, pulling his eyes to hers and tilting his head at that odd angle that made it look as if his head were about to roll off. "You're the one we didn't overestimate."

She narrowed her eyes, the scrunching across her nose competing with her freckles for attention.

"So we're giving you the choice," he said, accenting the "you" as if to suggest that they were in fact doing her a great favor. "We're letting you decide which one of these two men you'd like to keep here, with you, for the duration of this process."

Only then did her attention turned to the two gagged and bound before her, the edges of panic starting to tease their way back into her stomach because now that the words had been said, her situation had taken on the brilliant pain of reality. They were both staring at her, and she knew somewhere inside her, that was the best way they knew to plead their cases. And she knew, she had always known, that when the decision inevitably had to be made, that one of them was going to get hurt. Because to be a part of Kate Austen's life and not have some part of their own lives ruined was as ignorant a belief as playing with fire and trusting its deadly flickering flame.

She hadn't realized how long she had been returning their stares, her green eyes flicking back and forth between hazel and blue, until he prompted her for an answer.

"Who's going to stay Kate?"

It wasn't that she hadn't made a decision; it was the fact that she couldn't bring herself to cement that decision in stone. She wasn't ready to see the relief flood his features only to see his fall in rejection. She wasn't ready to rebuild a life she had been in the process of destroying.

"We need a decision tonight Kate."

She inhaled, and knew that the name she wanted to say, the name of the man that she wanted to stay, was also the one who couldn't stay. She knew that the pressure she was feeling against her front teeth as she struggled to voice her choice to the air should have started in her molars. She knew that it should have been pronounced with a crisp definition, as if she had taken scissors and sharply cut off the connection to the one she found herself saying now.

But Kate also knew that the name she was saying now, was the person she could do the least damage to, so she said it painfully clear as if to deter the need to ask for a repeat, looking down at her feet the instant it was across her lips.

"Sawyer."


	20. Moment of Truth

_Red In The Morning_  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 20, 2006_

_A/N: Let me start off saying that I've been dying to write this chapter for since I posted Chapter 9 which seems like forever ago, and I have a feeling that this might be the chapter some people have been looking forward to for a while. Having said that, I am going to try to keep this as true to LOST as possible, so do not expect anything that does not happen on LOST (if you think about that, I think you'll catch my drift…) For those of you who reviewed and expressed concern about Kate's choice… this would be the reason. As always, please read and review._

_Chapter 20: Moment of Truth_

She had not expected to be forced to make that choice. Ever. Not so suddenly and so consciously anyway. Like most events in her life, she'd never planned really. Her nature was much more comfortable living in the moment, reacting to things as they were thrown at her. She'd never been a big fan of sitting still long enough to write out lists, whether it was things to do, or groceries to buy, or her wedding plans. Maybe that was one of the reasons her marriage had been so punctuated.

Kate shook her overloaded mind away from slipping into another memory she'd rather leave boxed and stacked in the section of her brain she liked to think was marked as "Off Limits" and slammed that door roughly behind her. She'd relived enough of that mess for one day.

But she had deliberated and deliberated that choice until she began to see their faces mixing and meshing, the blood pounding in her ears and throbbing in the tips of her fingers and toes. She'd known what her heart was screaming then, what it was still screaming now. It was like she had put each man on different sides of a scale and stepped back to see which one she'd valued more. Then, she'd picked the other.

Kate didn't dare raise her eyes until she knew that they were no longer in her hut. The momentary look of shock she had seen plastered across Henry's face had now dissolved into one of contemplative calculation, as if she were an equation that refused to balance. In her heart, she felt a bottled satisfaction at his confusion and she smirked inwardly at her small victory.

She didn't hear the nasal voice whine off some excuse to leave her alone again. She didn't really notice Bea following in his footsteps; the same bewilderment, if she felt anything, not showing in her composure at all. She slowly, calmly walked out of the hut, letting the door creak shut behind her as she went.

Only then did Kate allow herself a covert look at Alex and saw that the girl was beaming at her although her mouth was still fixed firmly in a straight expressionless line. They shared a moment together, absorbing the acknowledgment of their newly found alliance, before Alex turned on her heel to rekick up the dust that had just settled from Bea's exit.

"Alex," Kate called out.

The teenager stopped, turned, stared and replied in an almost whisper, "You're welcome."

"No Alex, wait!" Kate kept her voice low for fear of being overheard, but the urgency in her tone made the other girl pause again, her blue eyes laced with a hint of perplexity.

"I need to…" Kate began, softly, feeling suddenly shy and slightly foolish at her change of heart. "I need to ask a favor."

Alex blinked, but that was the only betrayal of her surprise. "Umm…" She glanced at the door. "Okay."

"I need to see him before he goes."

Alex stared.

"It doesn't have to be for very long, I just…" Kate paused, the meaning of what she was about to admit weighing heavily on her for the first time. Her eyebrows lowered in that pained look she always got whenever she held Tom's plane between her fingers, twirling its toy body in slow spins and dives. "I just have to make him understand." She looked up, her eyes begging. "Please."

"Kate, I…" Alex started. "I can't. I…"

"You got Claire out, didn't you?" Kate asked.

"That was different," Alex protested. "I…" Her voice faltered, knowing how futile her excuse would be.

"Please Alex," she said. "I can't do this in front of Sawyer."

For a long moment, Alex just stared, her mouth opening and closing, trying to find words, eventually closing for good when she came up short. Kate never let up on her for a second. Her perserverance was rewarded with a defeated nod.

"Okay, I'll try."

"Well, that was unexpected," Tom said, hurrying to catch up with Henry's short but purposeful strides across the compound. "I figured after the way she caved in when we brought Jack…"

"Shephard," Henry interrupted, stopping swiftly so Tom had to skid to avoid running directly into him. "Do not make this personal."

Tom stood there, staring at his superior sheepishly as if to amend for his error. Henry turned away, realizing his irritability and closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe through the anger he felt coursing through him. No, that answer was not what he had expected. And now that made the next stage of their assignment that much more difficult—and less promising.

He started to walk away again, when Tom voiced that same thought to the air.

"I guess this takes Phase Two out of the question then huh?"

Henry felt the last wisps of patience sliding through his fingers, just as Kate had allowed Jack to slip through before. But he knew that a breakdown was not what Tom needed to see, or what the higher-ups expected from him.

"No, we're continuing on. Just as we planned."

Tom's brow wrinkled heavily, the lack of understanding written all over his bearded face.

"But I thought you said that Jack and Kate were best…"

"Shephard and Austen," Henry corrected.

"Right, Shephard and Austen," Tom repeated, berating himself for his second screw-up. "I thought that you wanted them for Phase Two."

"I did," Henry said. Tom looked expectantly at him, waiting for an answer that Henry wasn't willing to give this man just yet. "I did," he repeated, and stalked away, leaving his comrade to stare dumbfounded in his dust.

The crickets in the jungle seemed unusually loud to her that night. But she bet it was more from her increased paranoia and what she was about to attempt that made their chirping seem defeaning to her ears, as she snuck between the shadows of the hut, watching for passersby with held breath, allowing herself to breathe a sigh of relief when the yard before her was empty. It was times like this when she wished she had taken Tom's advice long ago and didn't make herself a part of their larger plan. The plan she was not privy to even now, she thought bitterly.

Counting down in her head, Alex bolted across the path seperating the two sides of camp, slipping stealthily into the shadows of the target hut. She waited and listened, her back pressed against the thatching as if she were trying to mold her body into one of its side walls. There was nothing but the sounds of the nightlife penetrating the air.

As she slipped in the hut, she felt the adrenaline kick up another notch, the idea that she might just be able to pull this stunt off starting to cement itself in her mind.

Both men jumped at her unexpected entrance and shouted some form of their surprise and Alex winced, expecting the entire plan to collapse around her. But they had been left muffled, probably more to Tom and Pickett's laziness, she thought, rather than for any beneficial purpose. Still, she raised a finger to her lips, showing them that she was on their side and that they had no reason to panic.

She worked quickly at Jack's restraints, whispering explanations of her intentions to both of them, allowing the tone of her voice to suggest the urgency of the situation.

Keeping an eye on Jack standing and stretching his arms, she looked to Sawyer and apologized, saying that if she ungagged him, they'd know she'd defected once again. The southerner simply nodded his understanding and even in the dim light from the moon, she saw him shoot Jack a pointed look across the room.

Then they made their exit.

Kate sat cross-legged, her back leaning against the pole, her whole body slumped in weariness. If she hadn't been waiting so anxiously for Alex's return, she might have fallen asleep then and there, now that she could arrange herself somewhat comfortably. But she knew if she slept for even a few minutes tonight, she'd consider herself lucky.

This waiting was wearing on her and she resisted to get up and pace the perimeter of her hut, knowing that would only agitate her nerves even more so. Instead, she expended the energy on rubbing her wrists to restore the circulation to her numb fingers.

She didn't know how long she sat there, waiting for a moment that seemed to never want to come, when she heard the sound of feet approaching. Standing up, she heard a hushed whisper say "You have a few minutes" and then time seemed to stop its never-ending march and suddenly she was staring at him. Her mouth opened awkwardly, closing against her will as if refusing on its accord to break the silence.

He shifted his weight, a sign she had learned long ago meant he was apprehensive, unsure as to what he should be doing and what was expected from him in a moment he didn't understand. She smiled, recognizing that something so familiar and feeling more comfortable than she had felt in the last thirty-six hours. He had always had the ability to make her feel that way.

She took a step towards him, the movement allowing her a better angle to study his face in the moonlight leaking through the spaces between where the roof and wall met with a bamboo crossbar. The large bruise around his eye was a harsh reminder of the decision she had made only a few hours before. Tentatively, she reached out her hand, letting her fingers whisper the greeting across his puffy skin and watched him flinch slightly at her touch.

"Jack," she said softly.

"It's not that bad," he replied. His hand closed around hers and pulled it away from his face, returning it to her side and looked away, his bruise and his pain disappearing into the shadows. She studied him, watching the way his eyes kept finding hers and glancing away the second they did, their silence settling between them. Then, they were fixed on something behind her, and she frowned, twisting to see what had caught his attention.

The bucket of water she had used a few hours before was still sitting in its spot, the towel hanging half in the water and half out over the edge. She walked towards it, reaching for the rag and dunking into the cool water. She could feel his eyes on her as she twisted the excess water from it, the drops falling to the wet the ground as she walked.

"This might be cold," she warned, folding it over his eye, trying as hard as she could to not apply more pressure than necessary. He let her hold it there and she flipped it over to renew the cooling effect twice more before she found the courage to speak.

He beat her to it.

"Kate," he said, his voice just above a whisper. "I'm… I had no idea…"

"Jack, don't." She cut him off, afraid to hear the words that meant he had heard everything she had wanted to keep buried. "Please."

He nodded, but she knew sooner or later he was going to say what he had wanted. Until she would hear it from him, he would lock it up some place safe and wait for her to tell him she was ready to talk about it.

"I wanted to tell you why I made the choice I did."

He looked at her, startled and wary.

"Alex told me they were going to let one of you go, and that I was to decide who that would be," she said. "And I knew… I knew that if I kept you here, they would keep using you against me, they'd keep hurting you because of me."

She swallowed and flipped the rag.

"Jack, I couldn't," she started, forcing herself to control the dangerous emotion bubbling up through her throat. She knew he had caught wind of it because his eyes softened and she lost her train of thought completely, letting it to die unfinished in the air.

"Sawyer saw Sayid," he said, attempting to cut into the pause.

Her eyebrows raised in astonishment and she pulled the damp compress away from his skin, momentarily forgetting what she had been doing. "He did? Where?"

"A few yards from the river," he replied, ignoring the cold against the throbbing under his eye. "I'm going to meet up with him when they let me go."

"That's good," Kate said, nodding her approval and not knowing what else to say.

"I'll wait a few hours and come back…"

"No, Jack!" she whispered fiercely, remembering to keep her voice in check. "Don't come back for us. It's too dangerous."

He cocked his head slightly at her, amused and asked, "Are you lecturing me on danger?"

She blushed and thanked the skies above that it was dark so he couldn't see her acting like a school-girl. A movement at the door made them both turn and Alex popped her head through.

"You've got a few more seconds," she whispered, disappearing again to resume her post.

Kate turned back to find Jack staring at her intently, that same look she had seen in his eyes when she had gagged and bound him. The one that made her nervous to continue staring, yet was powerless to look away. She felt her stomach flip and her skin quiver slightly with goosebumps, her heart pounding away in her chest, knocking against her ribcage. She tried to break out of it, but found herself on the verge of yet one more confession he needed to hear.

Tossing the rag to the ground, she felt herself in motion before she had really decided she was going to do it. Her arms wrapped themselves tightly around his shoulders, pulling him flush against her and feeling him wince at the sudden pressure against his ribs. She buried her face in the warm skin of his neck, the first spurt of tears rushing their way past her eyes and wetting her skin and his. His arms found their way around her and she trembled in the equal fierceness of his embrace.

She clung to him desperately, as if that alone would suspend them together in the night air, as if that alone would keep him with her. She hoped that he could feel that the name she had said today was not the one she had wanted to, that he could finally understand that she'd been distancing herself from him and lying through her teeth because what he made her feel right now, was something she didn't know how to deal with.

She heard Alex clear her throat and knew it was time for him to go. This might be her last chance.

"Jack, I…" she started, pulling away.

"I know, Kate," he whispered back, cutting her off. "I know."

And then he was gone.


	21. Plan B

_Red In The Morning_  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 21, 2006_

_A/N: Well today, I was introduced to something writers meet when developing a story that depends on continuity. That something is almost as high on the list of things that makes a dent in update time as Writer's Block; it is known as the Plot Hole. So after realizing that I had a little teeny weensy problem with where I was taking this story, I found a way to fix said problem. Good news for you all, this story has now been extended by about ten more chapters. Bad news for me (and maybe some of you because this might mean longer waits between posts), school starts Wednesday! AHHHHH! But never mind all that, and as always please read and review._

_Chapter 21: Plan B_

Frustration was not something he had a lot of experience dealing with. There was always a fallback plan, a way to simply iron out the wrinkles despite the odd and sometimes critical times they decided to appear. The hot metal seemed to never be out of reach when his brain needed to smooth over a complication. But this wrinkle was different, was more stubborn, was more than just a speed bump.

He sat, cross-legged, his elbows planted into the sides of his knees, his hands folded just in front of his chest. The flames of the infant campfire flickered in the cool morning breeze as he stared, not really seeing them bend and twist in their dance. He was too focused on trying to connect the dots between behavior and motives that seemed to be drawing in a picture that resembled little more than a few scribbles on paper. Like a chess player who realizes that the trap he had been setting up for the opponent's collapse now left him open and vulnerable, Henry forced himself to backtrack and check his premises.

He felt like he was searching through the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, trying desperately to find the one edge piece that had somehow eluded his first sorting. The piece that once found and put in its rightful place made the picture that he was dealing with that much more understandable. The piece that gave the situation definition and structure.

He was remembering back to that first day in the hatch armory when he had been trapped and helpless with only their muffled voices to listen to. As he remembered back, the voices he could make out did nothing to help him find that missing piece. The harder he tried to remember, the more he realized the person he had been trying to detect in his memories seemed to be the one most conspicuously missing.

The edges of his mouth curled into a slight frown as he felt himself once again staring face to face at the cage that held the iron he needed to get to. Maybe this was not the way to be looking at this particular situation. Maybe understanding her intentions was not what he needed to be doing.

But it wasn't that he didn't understand her decision. In fact, he had to give her credit; she had found a hole in his plan and had used that to lessen his advantage. She had effectively eliminated their strongest way of blackmailing her and now she was free to be as defiant as she wished and there was nothing that anyone could do that would stop her from making their lives difficult.

So if he couldn't control her, what if he turned the tables on her own situation? His eyebrows rose sharply as he watched the bars of the cage start to fall out of place, the hole to the iron widening with every passing minute. What if he decided he wasn't willing to let the person she had released go? No, he thought, Jack Shephard wasn't ready to leave them just yet.

He blinked, the frown on his face now replaced with a hopeful smirk, his eyes falling on Bea's still form. She was staring at him, as if she knew that her patience would eventually coax his secret out of him.

"I think I've found a solution to our problem," he said.

She nodded and asked, "And what might that be?"

"We're going to keep him," Henry said, his eyes smiling for him. He leaned forward conspiratorially, his weight shifting from his seat to his elbows and fixed her with an intent stare. "Here's what you need to do."

The afternoon sun was scorching on his skin and for the first time since he had crashed on this island, Jack found himself suddenly wishing for a tube of sun block. He ducked his head and squinted against the blinding white glare, letting himself be led away from the cool interior of the hut by Tom's guiding hands. After a few feet of staring at his boots kicking up stale dust, he managed to chance the occasional glance around him.

He stopped walking when he felt Tom's tug on the back of his arm and his gruff voice command, "Wait."

Jack almost groaned into his gag, feeling the first beads of sweat start their slow descent down the sides of his face. The humid air swimming in his vision and the gag stuffed rudely back into his mouth made him choke on every breath he inhaled, his throat scratchy and dry with his impaired ability to swallow. But he stood, despite the ache in his ribs and the pulse of his heart in his head, never once allowing himself to believe that after any moment, he might collapse to the ground.

He heard Henry before he saw him, coming from somewhere behind him and felt the pressure of Tom's restraint ease up as the man turned to watch his boss approach. For a second, Jack suddenly found himself flirting with rashness and barely brought his mind back to its senses before it had signaled his legs to bolt. His running off blindly into a jungle he didn't remember passing through was not going to help his current predicament anymore than it would help theirs. He had to be patient for them.

"Interesting choice, don't you agree?" Henry asked him, a less than genuine smile on his face. "I'll be honest with you, I never saw it coming."

Jack narrowed his eyes, but didn't reward Henry's bait with so much as a grunt of anger. He knew he also had to remain focused and level-headed, although he wanted to do so many unspeakable things to the man pacing in front of him… Save it for later, he thought to himself.

"When I was your prisoner," Henry continued, stopping in front of him and folding his hand behind his back. "I heard you took her along to make your trade and I thought that was interesting too. The doctor and the fugitive… Never would have seen that one coming either."

Jack was now staring over Henry's head, not quite trusting himself to remain calm if he continued to look into his pale and sickly blue eyes.

"Apparently it wasn't mutual."

It was a good thing he was gagged, Jack realized, feeling the edges of his mouth strain to curl into a smirk. Otherwise, he might have aroused Henry's suspicions further. Instead, he watched Henry nod silently to Tom and felt the binding on his wrists being loosened for the final time.

"Listen to my directions carefully, Jack," Henry said, leaning in close. "The sun will be heading towards the western sky soon. West is where your camp is, where your friends are. Follow the sun and you'll find your way home."

He stepped back, waited as the gag was loosened and fell from his captive's mouth, looked Jack once more in the eye and then tossed his head toward the jungle. "Go."

Jack took a few steps forward, until Henry was almost out of his peripheral vision and then stopped, feeling the need to do something, feeling that brashness fighting for recognition inside of him. He turned to look back and realized he hadn't heard Bea approach behind him.

"Is something wrong Jack?" Henry asked.

"If I find out, that you've so much as touched a hair on her head…" Jack let his threat evaporate into the shimmering heat.

Henry smiled a mocking grin, shaking his head at Jack's aggressiveness. "You won't." He knew perfectly well that that was not the answer or the reaction Jack had been expecting. "Now go before I change my mind."

Jack held his stare with his steely gaze another long and tense minute as if unsure whether to take his chances and beat him senseless right then and there or to walk away. Save it for later, he heard someone's voice repeat in his head. Save it for later.

With a final glare, Jack spun on his heel and walked away.

Henry, Bea, and Tom waited tensely, watching his figure shrink slowly as he reached the edges of their camp. Tom shifted and stilled again when Henry raised his hand, signaling him to wait. Then when Jack had advance another three yards, Henry nodded his head once, slowly, deliberately and the safety of the rifle in Bea's hands was released with a resounding click.

Kate kept forcing her eyes away from the hut door, knowing full well what was happening just past its few wooden planks. She convinced herself, as she chewed her lunch, that she could almost see his tall frame, striding past and into the jungle depths. But at the same time she cursed its opaqueness, she was grateful for that same trait. Watching him walk away last night was painful enough. She didn't want to have to watch his back retreating again.

"I wanted to say thank you," Kate said, awkwardly around her banana. Her temporarily free hands pulled at the peel, revealing more of the off-white fruit. She glanced up at Alex and took another bite, her stomach growling loudly.

"Sure," Alex replied.

They both were silent a moment, uncertain whether to let the issue drop or to continue discussing the possibilities of where that left them. They never had a chance to decide.

Its echo ringing loudly in their ears, both girls jumped at the sound of the gunshot crackling over the calm afternoon air.


	22. Debate

Red In The Morning   
_By Sinking815_  
_August 22, 2006_

_A/N: Well this is semi-depressing. I'm going to try my hardest to update one more time tonight but if I don't make it, this is my last update before school starts which means summer is officially over. To reiterate my warning from last post (and I'll say it bluntly), do not expect a chapter a day… not with five AP classes and one study hall. LOL! As always, please read and review._

_Chapter 22: Debate_

The report of the gunshot rang like a distant echo in his ears, and Sawyer momentarily forgot he was still a prisoner, their prisoner, as he twisted and struggled to stand and run. Although, even if he had been free to move about at his own will, he wasn't sure whether he would have run towards the noise or away from it.

He knew that he was staring at the door and that if any of them happened to pass through, they might break down into hysterics seeing his bewildered disheveled look. But he was stuck there, in a trance, as if he looked hard enough, stared long enough, the wooden planks would simply fade away and reveal the scene on the other side.

The painful burn in chest reminded him that breathing was still necessary and he felt his body collapse, the air rushing out like a flood taking with it his anxiety, only to bring it back in full force when he inhaled again. His heart was pounding in his chest, the adrenaline still wreaking havoc on his system from the rude and sudden interruption.

Forcing himself to relax, he threw his head roughly back against the wooden pole at his back and cursed a string of obscenities under his breath. When had he learned to be afraid again? Because Sawyer knew, that all this emotion swirling inside him now, the confusion, the fear, the apprehension, the anger, was happening for that very reason. As a con artist in the real world, he would have permitted himself to only feel an indifferent need to understand, which was one of the reasons he credited himself for never having been behind bars for too long at a time. He suspected that's why she had been on the plane with an official; she'd let her heart get involved in business it didn't have any place being.

And he'd almost been asleep too, he thought. That was a pretense though and Sawyer dropped the lame distraction. Maybe now was a good time to start reacquainting himself with emotions he had damned as dangerous before.

With one final glance at the door, Sawyer closed his eyes and began his introduction.

His lifeless body was a like a deadweight despite the fact that Tom was supporting at least half of that burden. It hadn't taken long for the drug to work its magic all over again and she remembered the way his legs had collapsed from beneath, buckling first because of the sharp stab of the dart cutting between his shoulderblades and then because his muscles had convulsed into brief spasms. They had reached his side just in time to see his eyes roll back, the final sign of unconsciousness.

With a grunt, Tom kicked the door to the stockhut open, forcing himself and his load through the narrow frame. He nodded to her and she dropped his arm from around her shoulders and quickly began rearranging shelves and crates so they could secure and hide the incapacitated man before he awoke. She knew she was battling the clock, her hands deftly sliding heavy crates as if they weighed nothing, feeling the excitement of pressure coursing through veins, quickening her movements and muscles.

When adequate space had been cleared, Tom shuffled his feet and dropped the man unceremoniously to the ground. Then the work of binding began. As Tom twisted rope tightly about his legs and wrists, Bea slung the rifle over her shoulder and bent to gag and blindfold him. She knew they were being overly cautious, but theirs was a mission of the utmost importance. The boss had said to make sure he disappeared from camp. So that's what they were going to make him do.

They exited the hut, cutting clear across the yard and then doubling back on their footsteps. To any observers, she knew it would seem that they were approaching from the opposited side of camp, and suspicion as to why they both would emerge from the stockhut would be erased.

"Give me the gun," she heard Tom whisper gruffly. She looked up momentarily confused at his sudden command, but once she followed his eyes, she saw the reason for his distress. Alex had just stepped out of a hut and was surveying the area, a wild panic in her eyes.

Her hand was just leaving the still hot metal of the barrel when the teenager spotted them and came rushing over.

"What? Happened?" she panted, her blue eyes wide and concerned. "I was finishing up with Kate and we heard a gunshot…"

Bea studied her for a second, partly to buy time to think of a legitimate excuse and partly to control her reaction to Alex's comment. First name basis now? _We_ heard a gunshot? Suddenly the job Henry had implied of her that night by the fire seemed crucial if there plans were to advance to the next phase. Alex had now become a liability.

"Damn it, Alex!" Tom started, before she opened her mouth. "How many times have I told you to not let this lie around?"

Alex's confusion doubled, her brow scrunching even more as she glanced back and forth between her superior's faces. "I…" she began.

"We found it lying just over there by the firepit, in the open sun," he continued, his eyes shifting from the girl to the weapon in his hands. "It's scorching out today, the heat set it off." He paused, his faux-angry gaze turning to the girl again. "Someone could have been shot!"

"I didn't mean… I thought I…" Alex stammered, looking warily at the gun in his outstretched hands. Realizing it was not worth her effort to defend herself, her body slumped, the tension dissipating visibly from her shoulders.

"This better not happen again, missy." His eyebrows were raised and Bea found herself nodding along.

"It won't," the girl mumbled, her eyes cast down ashamed at her error.

He handed it back to her, resisting her grab for it just to punctuate his warning and then looked to Bea and strode away. Alex kept her gaze down and Bea placed a hand on the girl's shoulder, striding off after Tom.

They had been arguing what to do in angry raised voices ever since the incident that afternoon and Sun found herself wishing, and not for the first time, that she had fought Sayid harder on getting Locke involved. Jin sat next to her, poking every so often at the fire, pretending that he didn't notice the animosity that had settled in their camp again. Even though he didn't understand the specifics of their argument, Sun knew he knew very well what the two were debating.

Sayid had always been one to side with Jack's practicality and it seemed that now he had stepped in to fill the doctor's role in his absence. He was of the mentality that leaving three of their companions in what now appeared to be a very dangerous and unstable predicament was not worth the few answers that Locke was sure they would receive if they kept a watchful eye and waited.

Of course, Sun thought, resting her cheek against her palm, who was to say that trying to extract Jack, Kate and Sawyer from the Others' camp wasn't just as dangerous? She didn't realize her impatience was that evident until she felt Jin's hand gently squeeze her knee, and looked up to see his empathetic smile.

"Because I saw it with my own eyes Locke!" Sayid was yelling. "They shot at him!"

"Not to kill though," Locke replied, his voice loud but calm.

"That shouldn't matter," Sayid said, tossing his hands up in exasperation. "We don't know their intentions."

"Exactly."

Sayid mumbled something in a language Sun couldn't understand and turned on his heel, stalking a few feet away and then spinning to face his adversary. She could see the aggravation all over his dark features, even though he was almost out of reach to the fire's light. He seemed to be radiating anger, but when he next spoke, his voice was back under some semblance of control and sounded disturbingly calm in the cool night air.

"So what do we do then? Wait?"

Locke stared at the Iraqi, his eyes squinted in that look of contemplation that Sun has seen on his face many times when he sat isolated from camp, staring off at the distant horizon. That look had made her uncertain of his sanity then and it did had the same effect on her now.

"You're a trained soldier, Sayid," Locke started, gesturing with the hand that held the knife he had been using to fillet a fish. "You tell me what sounds more practical. Rushing in blind to attempt a rescue in hostile conditions? Or scouting out their forces and then constructing a plan of attack?"

Even though she agreed with Sayid on this point, his logic was cold and simple, and she knew, just as Sayid knew, that there was no way to argue with it. It seemed that ever since Jack had left, Locke was the voice of reason and no one had the authority or the nerve to fight with him for long. She watched Sayid approach the fire and slump to the ground, defeated.

Sun wished he would look at her, to let him know there still was a way around that dead end. She had seen Locke himself use it against Jack's authority multiple times. That the easiest way to deal with that finality was to blatantly ignore it. She made a silent promise to herself to mention what she had in mind to Sayid later.

"So," Locke said. She didn't need to look up to know he was smiling. "We wait."


	23. Initiation

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_August 26, 2006_

_A/N: I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry about the wait. I can't stress that enough, nor can I stress that I promise this is almost over (which may be a bad thing for some people, but look at the bright side: Jate is coming!). Here's what I'm going to try to promise to the best of my ability; I'm going to try and update at least twice a week, probably more on the weekends, but just to give you guys some idea… So without further adieu, (as always) please read and review! (Ha ha that rhymed!)_

_Chapter 23:Initiation_

She was furious. There was no other word for the naked hatred she felt raging through her veins, making the blood pound loudly in her head. The tightness in her muscles would have made her wince when a long needle, held by an assistant she didn't recognize, pierced the skin inside her elbow but she didn't. Her anger wouldn't allow it.

He was staring at her, one arm crossed in front of him, his other resting on it for support, a finger stretched up over his lips. His blue eyes were focused with an intense scrutiny and if she hadn't been so irate she might have squirmed under his unsettling gaze. He looked as if her were sizing her up, but what for Kate had no idea and suddenly she felt the helpless weightlessness of vulnerability suspend her despite the cold metal cuffs around her wrists and ankles. She was trapped and there was no running from whatever he planned to do now.

"What do you want from me?" she snarled. The person who had injected her with some clear colorless liquid turned away and left the room, jotting down notes with deliberate care on a chart of some sort. Kate briefly wondered what they were doing.

"I want to talk," Henry said, ignoring the woman who left the room.

"Then talk," Kate spat, not caring in the least bit that she was letting her anger get the best of her.

Alex had warned her earlier, mumbling something about testing and another phase of some big plan and apologies for what she didn't know. Exasperated with the lack of information, Kate had inquired about everything from the nature of tests to confirmation that the gunshot they had heard yesterday did not involve Jack. Alex had simply chosen not the hear the first line of questions and had been adamant in her answer that Jack was indeed off and probably back at their camp by now.

That had given Kate the assurance that she had nothing to lose. So up went her defensive barriers and her recalcitrant behaviour doubled.

"I find it very interesting," Henry began, letting his hands drop to hold his elbows, slowly pacing in front of her chair. "That in the last twelve hours, your attitude towards us has turned down a completely different road."

"I told you, I don't like to be kept waiting."

"You've become belligerent. You've resisted. You've been uncooperative." He glanced up at her, noting her narrowed eyes and a face that told him she didn't give a damn about his concerns. But Henry knew, that she was listening, and listening intently.

"You don't answer simple questions…"

"You don't answer mine," she interrupted and his mind could not keep out the image of her folding her arms across her chest if she had not been restrained. The defiant posture almost made him smile; instead he looked back down at the tiled floor and resumed his pacing.

"I know this whole process has been frustrating…"

She snorted. He ignored it.

"And I know that we've tested your patience, but I have a reason for my delay."

Henry stopped and his head rose to study his captive. She raised an eyebrow at him, only the least bit intrigued, but intrigued nonetheless.

"You see Kate," he started, acting like he was about to explain something very complex to a child. "We needed to your opinion on a certain matter…"

"You mean you forced me to decide." Her eyes threw him a don't-bullshit-with-me look. Kate was never one to appreciate sugar-coated adult answers.

Henry inclined his head in what seemed to be a deferent acknowledgement of his error, and quipped, "But only to make this next step that much more…" He paused searching for the word, his blue eyes glancing about the room as if he were simply going to read it off of a poster on the barren walls.

"…much more pleasant for _you_."

Kate turned her head sharply to the side, watching him warily out of the corner of his eye. The smile that spread over his face slowly, like a puddle that expands from a drippy faucet, made her stomach twist uncomfortably.

"Which is why the choice you made the other day baffles me."

Kate didn't answer, unsure as to where he was going with this conversation.

"I would have bet a considerable wager on Shephard," he continued. "You two always seemed so close on the other side of the island." He laughed curtly, the eerieness of its sound making the hair along the back of her neck and arms stand on end. "You should have seen the look in his eyes when he turned back before heading off into the jungle."

For the first time since he had entered the room, Kate couldn't help but let her eyes fall to her lap, her head ducking to protect her betraying lower-lip as she bit it, feeling the iron taste of blood trickling on her tongue.

"Apparently he thought so too, hmmm?"

She could feel the heat rising in her neck and cheeks and hoped against all odds, that he did not see her unease. Her mind fell back into the mantra she had been repeating over and over again to try and console her aching heart. _You did the right thing, Kate. You did what was best._

"I know what you were doing Kate," Henry said, unknowingly distracting her from her torture. He nodded, his eyes now fixed intently on her, like he wasn't just seeing her physical being, but as if he were watching her self-penance. Like he could see directly through her exterior. She swallowed, agitated.

"You were trying to protect him," he started. "Weren't you?"

Before Kate could open her mouth to defend herself, to accuse him of reading between lines, to fight down the truth and spit lies until her throat was sore, she felt the familiar twist of panic clutch away the breath in her chest. She knew she had answered his question with her eyes.

"We're watching him Kate. So it would be in his best interest if you started to cooperate."

In all of her life, Sun thought, no she knew, that this was the last thing on the planet that she could have envisioned herself doing. Sneaking stealthily through the jungle in order to find a private place to answer nature's call was not on her list of 100 Things To Do Before I Die. But then again, the real reason she was darting from tree to tree, glancing warily around her, flinching at every unnecessary crack of a twig beneath her feet, was something that would have never made that list either.

Earlier that morning, Sayid had pulled her aside to discuss a game plan. Unfortunately for them both, Locke had made a unannounced and unwelcome appearance and the paranoia in him seemed to increase tenfold. Suddenly, he questioned anything and everything Sayid or herself tried doing. When she had gotten up to find some more wood to fuel the fire, he had cocked his head and asked politely but forcefully to state her intentions. When Sayid got up to check out a suspicious sound in the nearby jungle, Locke volunteered to go with. She briefly wondered if this was some sort of incidental result of his being locked away in the hatch for hours at a time.

But even he couldn't find an excuse to stop her from her "much-needed" bathroom break. As she had stood and left the fire, her eyes had caught Sayid's and the intensity she saw was not just from the heat reflected at her from the glowing fire. If there was ever a time to initiate what they had discussed, now was it.

She paused and dropped to her knees behind a bush when she reached the edge of the jungle. A first glance around let her breathe a sigh of relief that the unnamed fear she had had was not true. Instead of the wide, expansive, and impossible-to-cross-without-being-seen river, a mere stream gurgled not more than ten yards in front of her, the path beyond its opposite bank leading not even twice that to the heart of their camp.

She silently thanked whatever God there was that her task was at least that much easier and she settled to wait, letting the patient personality she was known for take over. As she trained her eyes on the flickering firelight of torches stationed on poles at intervals around their camp, Sun let her mind wander, debating which would happen first. A glimpse or sign of which of the many huts before her held her friends. Or Sayid's presence accompanying her in the wait for information.

Either way, this was bound to be an eventful night.


	24. Affirmative

Red In The Morning  
_By Sinking815_  
_September 1st, 2006_

_A/N: I know this chapter is kinda short but it was necessary if I wanted to keep the suspense going and uphold my reputation for being the Queen-of-Evil-Cliffhangers. Insert evil grin here! Hee hee… I will update tomorrow and probably Sunday too with longer ones. This is it guys (and gals for those of you who want that to matter), the last few set-up steps before… well wouldn't want to spoil it, now would we?_

_Chapter 24: Affirmative_

When he came to, the sensations flooding his veins and fogging his mind were all too familiar and he groaned audibly into the bitter gag stretched across his mouth. The first time he had been through this, Jack didn't even know how to begin to describe the heavyness in his limbs or the dull ache in his joints. The second time through, he knew with a sudden clarity that this was what it must feel like to be hit by a truck.

It was hard to breathe, was hard to move, was hard to see, think, and feel. He waited for the pain to come, that would make his whole body shudder and tense to fight it off, but in reality was only because that's what the drug coursing through his system told his mind to expect. He knew there would be no agony. Only the annoying tenderness around the swollen skin where the dart had punctured its incapacitating injection.

With effort, Jack managed to lift his head, thoughts of trying to get his bearings slowly working their practical way in the darkness around him. He concentrated on his senses, blinking frantically to regain his vision only to realize as his eyelashes brushed repeatedly against fabric, that vision was no longer his privilege. The air was cool on his bare arms and the tickle of the frayed strings against his shoulders told him there was a draft wherever he was being held. The well-known by now smell of smoke from jungle wood and the sharp sting of salt as he breathed in the night air made him tremble from the inside out.

Jack slumped, feeling the tug of defeat and rough rope ripping across his wrists and ankles. He'd never stepped foot off their camp. They had lied. Releasing him had been just another one of their endless mindgames. They had never planned on letting him simply walk out of their camp.

And then Jack pushed away all self-pity and felt the first twinges of panic snatch his breath away as thoughts of her finally broke through his confusion. They were still in this mess—all of them.

He tried not to think about what they were doing to them, what they were planning on doin to them. The image of the Asian scientist from the movie reel Locke had watched over and over flashed tauntingly in front of his blind-folded eyes, his words of warning bouncing back and forth like a ping-pong ball. The Dharma Initiative was committed to the betterment of mankind. So if they were being held as lab rats, how were he and Kate and Sawyer going to contribute to human development?

He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the images of tests, and drugs, and experiments he did not want to consider the consequenes of out of his mind. And because he was stubborn, Jack was convinced that he would win the struggle. He didn't realize he was fighting a three-front war, his wayward mind, the after-effects of the sedative, and exhaustion.

"Any luck?"

The heavily accented voice startled her and Sun whipped around on the balls of her feet to face the sudden intruder. She dropped the hand that had risen to still her pounding heart and let out a rushed breath of relief, her features relaxing from the tautness of surprise.

"Sayid," she whispered, feeling it necessary to voice his name as if that made his presence concrete in the darkness surrounding her and shaking her head in reply. He squatted next to her and his hand settled on her shoulder in a gesture of comfort and apology.

"I did not mean to frighten you."

She nodded absently in acceptance, turning her attention back across to the glowing fires of the campsite before them. Silently, they watched a few shadows seated around a particularly large blaze rise and disappear in a nearby hut, each of their eyes scanning for a recognizable profile or a familiar stride. After another moment, Sun thought they had all left, but she held her tongue when another figure rose from the opposite side of the fire, her legs shielded by the flickering flames.

They studied her intently and Sun noticed the apparent differences in her just as Sayid voiced them to her, the tone cool and calculating. Sun glanced at him, in admiration at his professionalism despite the circumstances. He was a trained soldier switching to combat mode, ready to fulfill the mission assigned to him by his superiors. Operation Rescue had just been initiated.

"She is younger than them. And uncertain," he said without emotion, his dark eyes watching the girl take a few steps and pause, her head swiveling round, her ponytail swinging with the motion. Then she disappeared into a hut only to emerge a few minutes later with a companion.

It was all Sun could do to keep herself under some semblance of control when the fire threw its diagonal light over the new silhouette crossing the dirt path. She knew the dark waves, the pale skin, the green eyes, the short steady stride. What she didn't recognize was the expression plastered across Kate's face. In the few months that Sun had known the fugitive, haunted, fearful, sadness were all expressions she had learned were the outward signs of her character. But despondency, like there was nothing left to live for, nothing left in this world to struggle against, was not one of them.

Sayid was looking at her when she turned to him, waiting for the initial shock to wear off and she could see the plan they had needed moments before had suddenly materialized in his mind.

"I will wait until she leaves and then I'll move in to get Kate," he whispered, the edge of his voice laced with tension not from dread, but from excitement. He was in his element and Sun was going to step out of his way to leave a clear path. "I need you to stay here to intercept her. Then I will look for Jack and Sawyer. Are we clear?"

"Do you think that is the safest way?" The question sounded like she was unwilling to trust his authority and she winced at how blatant and harsh it sounded after his accented words.

He was staring back at the scene across the river with a look she had seen on his face several times before. As she watched him, Sun knew this was the look he wore when he had served his country, the look of obligation, duty and purpose was one she had shaken hands with many times. Jin used to wear it all the time.

"It is the only way," he replied.

And then he was gone.


	25. Proceed With Caution

_Red In The Morning  
By Sinking815  
September 3rd, 2006_

_A/N: Sorry this took so long, but I made it a huge update. It's actually two chapters in one! Thank you for all your kind words and encouragement! As always, please read and review._

_Chapter 25: Proceed With Caution_

Sayid was back on the battlefield. Every step he took, he took with extra precision and care, every breath he held a second longer than necessary. His eyes scanned his new perimeter after every movement, sometimes double and triple-checking to be that much more cautious. That much more aware of change. He let his heart pound wildly and the adrenaline run rampant through his veins. It sharpened his senses. It made him what he had been trained to be.

Flawless. Not many in his rank could claim that word as their own. When he was still a mere recruit, he never allowed himself to believe he was capable of attaining it. It was just far enough away that no matter how hard or how long he stretched and sweat and worked for it, it was always out of reach. Like an oasis to a dehydrated man lost in the sea of desert sands, it may as well have been nothing but shimmering air, forming taunting images out of sheer desperation.

All that suffering and pain he had endured then was about to save three of his companion's lives now. Sacrifice was a soldier's duty and Sayid knew he was putting himself on the line for a trio whom he might have never met if it weren't for that flight. The flight he almost hadn't made if his long time friend hadn't decided to stick a revolver in his mouth.

Sayid shook the hair and the memory from his face, swiping angrily at the sweat breaking out along his brow. Memories were distractions for a soldier. That was the second thing they taught in boot camp.

Slowly, he leaned around the side of the hut he found himself pressed up against, his head tilted slightly, listening and waiting. Silence told him he was free to go about his mission. His eyes swept the yard again, searching for the silhouette that didn't belong or movement that was not from the ocean breeze. There was nothing. So he moved.

He sprinted lightly on his toes, the soft swishing of his pant legs brushing against each other with the rapid motion of his gait. But that wasn't anything to be worried about. It seemed to blend fluidly with the rustle of nearby palms, a mere underscore to the jungle nightlife at his back.

Sayid paused a moment to gather his wits and bearings. The hut he leaned into now for extra camouflage in the night was slightly smaller than the one he had just sprinted from. If he had to guess, this might house some of them while the one across the way seemed large enough to merit itself useful for storage. But these assumptions were only worthy of acknowledgement if these so-called "Others" organized themselves by similar rules.

Glancing towards the starry sky above him, he whispered a short prayer in Arabic, barely audible to his own ears, and then leaned around to judge the distance between his current position and the hut he and Sun had watched Kate disappear into. It was a good twenty yards across camp and as usual, the quickest route there was also the most open and the most dangerous.

Steeling himself for the risk to come, Sayid forced a few slow deep breaths and felt the familiar tension in his muscles before he prepared to bolt. The second he heard the nearby voice, he let the thought and readiness drain from him as swiftly as air released from a balloon and just like that, he was back into recon mode.

"Let's go, Ford!" it said gruffly, along with the scuffling of heavy feet. "We don't got all night."

Sayid felt his whole body snap back into the welcoming shadows when the torch suddenly appeared only ten feet from his face. The man holding its flickering flame was much stockier if a little shorter than himself and walked with a sort of side-to-side rocking motion as if he were trying to maintain his balance on a wave-tossed ship. His other "free" hand was clamped firmly around the arm of a man Sayid recognized even before he caught a glimpse of the man's profile—Sawyer.

The first thing they taught the new recruits was that knowledge, power, discipline and Allah only took you so far on the battlefield. Every once in a while, your fate was left in the hand's of Lady Luck. Fortunately for Sayid, she was hiding right next to him in the shadows.

He watched the captor and the prisoner make their way over to the river where he had just been, watched the man unbind Sawyer's wrists and shoulder the rifle he had slung over his back. The man's aim was unmistakable. One wrong move and Sawyer wouldn't be causing any more trouble. They were intelligent and experienced at this, and Sayid made a mental note and gave them credit for it.

They were also efficient. Sawyer's whole break took no more than five minutes and then the man was marching him back across the path they had walked before. Sayid held his breath, listening to the motion inside, hearing the scuffle and the creak of the door and the dragging of heavy steps across a dirt yard. When he peered around again, the light was fading and eventually disappeared into a hut very near the edge of camp most opposite from the jungle. That was the second time he thanked Lady Luck.

Then the tension was back and Sayid crept around to the entrance, slipping inside without a sound.

Henry had been mad. And Alex knew he had every right to be and every reason not to be. Maybe it was just her physical make-up. Maybe it was her strong emotions aiding her in her resistance. Whatever it was, Henry had not expected it to so completely thwart his chance to get inside Kate's mind.

The serum they had injected was powerful and usually a little went a long way. Sometimes captives even passed out and they had had to wait patiently, clipboards and pencils in hand and at the ready, poised to mark down any comments, names, places, dates, events that would aid them in their understanding of their victim. It was a reliable way for them to pry into whose ever mind they decided they needed to get into and they used that to their advantage.

Claire had spilled her life story almost instantly and they had only given her the half-dose specifically meant for the smaller of the humans that they tested. Walt had just needed someone to guide him along, and Bea's gentle suggestions were all he needed to start his one-sided conversation. Michael had mainly babbled, but he had babbled some important names linking him effectively and irreversibly to Walt. Sawyer had rambled on and on, and that's when Alex noticed Henry's frustration had started. It was difficult to understand his accent and with the slurred speech from the drug and the discontinuity in his statements, Sawyer had been difficult to follow. They had picked up on names and she had scribbled phrases until the drug exhausted his mind to oblivion.

Then they had brought her in. And she clammed up the instant the drug hit her system. It was ironic really, Alex realized, pushing hard against the door to the stockhut. She searched the rows of shelves, shifting a few boxes here and there, looking for the refills Henry wanted. The magic serum that was supposed to make anyone and everyone divulge every little secret had had the reverse effect on her. She had been more talkative and Alex thought with a smirk, more cooperative, before they had injected her. She almost wondered if they would have learned more by playing off her anger. Even trained criminals were bound to slip sometime.

Deep in thought, Alex almost didn't hear the grunt when the box she slid too far and toppled off the container it had been resting on. But the moan of pain afterward she heard and she felt her hands and heart freeze at the sudden and unexpected sound. Why was someone in the stockhut with her?

Cautiously, she pushed her torch forward into the gloom, making note of the numerous cobwebs that glinted back at her over the stacked crates on the far wall. She let her eyes follow the silky threads to packed dirt floor and over the booted foot that…

Booted feet! What the hell was going on?

She crept forward, a miniscule amount of bravery returning when she noticed that they were securely bound with several rounds of rope and didn't appear to be moving. With one shaky hand, she pulled the box completely off of the legs it was resting on and gasped audibly when she saw a face she thought she wouldn't be seeing for a while.

He couldn't see back, though he tried to desperately see past the thick blindfold that covered his eyes. Alex felt her heart go out to him and something returned in her chest that she hadn't felt since she had helped Claire escape her fate. Her hand found his and held gently but firmly when he shied away, unsure and afraid.

"Jack," she said softly, almost letting a smile of relief push away her confusion and shock at seeing him there. "It's Alex."

He mumbled something that she couldn't understand and glancing warily at the door, Alex realized with a sudden anxiety, Henry would have almost lost his patience with her by now. Especially if he knew she had found out about his little secret.

"I'll come back but I gotta go," she explained hurriedly. "Kate's fine. She's actually doing really well."

The smile won out when she saw his entire body shudder as the tension visibly left him and he fell limp against the wall. Then he mumbled something and she strained to turn it into something she could comprehend. She asked him to repeat it one more time before she finally understood.

"Yes, Jack. Sawyer's fine too."

She stood and whispered a final promise to return as soon as she could before she left him to the darkness once again.

"Wake up, Kate!"

But she was so tired.

"C'mon Freckles."

Whatever it was that wanted her awake shook her hard and Kate threw her hands up in a futile attempt to swat it away. She didn't want to move.

"We ain't got all night."

As far as she was concerned, even if they had all night she felt almost fully certain that still wouldn't be enough to chase away this exhaustion. All she wanted to do was sleep. Why couldn't they just let her be?

And then she couldn't breathe and her lungs were screaming for air and she was suddenly never more awake in her life as she coughed and gasped greedily when the hand over her mouth and nose let up.

"They teach you that over in Arabia, Jafar?" That was Sawyer, and nicknames like that were only for…

"No. But it worked, did it not?" That voice belonged to Sayid, she'd taught herself to learn that accent long ago.

Kate stared wide-eyed at the two men's faces, disbelieving to the point of looking slightly frightened. Now she wasn't so much tired as she was confused.

"Rescue's here sunshine," Sawyer drawled, offering her his easy dimpled grin. "You up for a run."

She didn't have the chance to answer before they had hauled her to her feet and when she was standing without either man's support, she let herself believe that this wasn't another dream. That everything happening right now was reality.

Her feet started moving before her brain had worked itself out of the mode it had decided to stall in, making her follow them to hut's only entrance and only exit. This was it. They were getting rescued. Jack's plan had worked.

Jack! Suddenly it all made perfect sense. Jack had been let go. He'd said that Sawyer had seen Sayid by the river. Jack had told Sayid how to find them. But if that was all true, then where was he?

"Is Jack okay?" she asked. Once again, her mind stalled and this time so did her feet.

"We're going to find him now," Sayid whispered back, grabbing her arm and attempting to keep her moving.

But that was not the answer Kate was looking for, and her feet planted themselves, anchoring her against Sayid's pull. Even Sawyer stopped his retreat at that response. He turned slowly to regard the Iraqi, his brow furrowed heavily and dangerously in confusion.

"Whatd'ya mean… _find_ him?"

"Isn't he still here?" Sayid shot back, the urgency in his voice reflecting the same emotion written all over his friend's faces. Something wasn't making sense.

"No," Kate whispered fiercely, her voice starting to escalate with unabashed panic. "They let him go yesterday morning. He should have found you by now."

Sayid watched her for a moment, letting the information absorb and assemble itself somewhere in his plans. Then he shook his head and her face fell only to tighten in a worry he had seen only once before. "We watched your camp the entire time. He did not leave it."

"Son of a bitch! They lied!" Sawyer turned on his heel and grumbled something else she wasn't sure she wanted to hear. Her entire body felt numb as the weight of Sayid's news settled heavily on her narrow shoulders. If he hadn't been let go, where was he?

"Keep your voice down," Sayid said, moving to the door and peeking between the slats. "They might hear you!"

"Well, I'll tell you Muhammed, they will hear from me, just as soon as we get out of this mess," Sawyer said, his tone just as angry but not as loud. He wasn't about to let his pride ruin this whole plan.

"We need to go now," Sayid said, his eyes still glued to the world outside the hut. "If we go now, we can make it to the jungle."

"NO!" Kate said. Both men turned to look at her as if realizing for the first time that she was still there, alive and breathing in the same room. "We're not going to just leave him!"

"Kate," Sayid said, exasperated. "We do not have a choice."

She turned to Sawyer, pleading with her eyes for his support.

"Awww, sweet cheeks," Sawyer said. "Don't use the doe-eyes on me. Sayid's right. We can come back for him."

"Please Kate," Sayid said. He was practically begging. "Do not jeopardize this for yourself or Jack." He paused trying to think of a way to convince her. "If we do not leave now, we can not help him at all. We will all be caught."

Kate stood, staring back and forth, her mind waging war with her heart. She knew they were right. She just didn't want to accept it.

Feeling even more numb than when she had been doped to the point of unconsciousness, Kate nodded in silent agreement. She didn't trust her voice and followed their relieved sighs out into the night air.

She barely missed running into Sawyer and glanced up, not really feeling or seeing anything. Until she was staring at a pair of blue eyes she had come to know all too well.

They were face to face with Alex.


	26. Insomnia

Red In The Morning   
_By Sinking815_  
_September 9th, 2006_  
_A/N: Real short note, 'cuz then I gotta call it a night. School tomorrow. Bright and early. This chapter took a while to get up partly because of my crazy schedule and partly because I really needed to be in the mood to start it. Hopefully, it was worth the wait! As always, please read and review!_

_Chapter 26: Insomnia_

It was one of those moments where the world stops spinning and everyone is powerless to the lapse of time that keeps ticking steadily and evenly through the bewilderment she saw reflected on the three other faces around her. Where for a second everyone inhaled sharply and held their breath, as if in a contest to see who could out do who, to see who would be the first to melt out of that frozen trance.

He was the one to thaw the fastest and before Kate could play mediator again, his gun was pulled, the safety clicked off, his even and strangled accent ordering the other girl to put her hands up where he could see them, warning her not to challenge his aim by reaching for the rifle strapped across her back. Sayid had decided to take control of the situation and she was too stunned to argue back. They all were.

Alex did as she was told, her eyes switching back and forth between Kate and Sayid, back and forth between pleas for help and wide-eyed fear. The unprofessional reaction was Kate's final piece of evidence that her first instincts about Rousseau's daughter had been right. This girl was merely a pawn in the Other's game and chances were that she was being played just as they were themselves.

"Sawyer," Sayid's tense voice whispered, the urgency slicing through the fog lifting slowly from everyone's minds. "Get the gun."

The southerner moved forward, for once taking a command on the first order instead of questioning or commenting some snide remark. Alex started to hand it over, clearly wanting to avoid any more confrontation that hadn't been necessary until this point, but the flash of moonlight of the metal of the 9-millimeter in the soldier's hands made her stop.

"Do. Not. Move."

She swallowed and nodded her understanding, slowly raising her hands, palms out and open, adopting her defensive and vulnerable stance from before. Only her eyes shifted to Sawyer's hands, gently, shakingly, lifting the strap from her chest and pulling it over the shorter girl's head. He backed away slowly, twisting the extra strap around his right arm, his own hands finding their grip on the long narrow barrel and the wooden shoulder support.

Kate watched, swallowing past a breath stuck between her vocal cords, and something inside her knew that Sawyer wouldn't add to the threatening situation. He knew, just as well as she did, that the teenager before them was probably the biggest ally they'd have tonight if they were going to make this rescue attempt successful.

"You will tell us…" Sayid's harsh tone broke throught the stillness once again. It was like he was refusing to the void to grow too large, as if its immensity might somehow betray them all. As he spoke, Kate felt the tension winding tighter and tighter, the consequences creeping closer from the shadows around them and knew they were on the verge of pushing their luck. Any moment, someone could walk across the yard, to check on their missing comrade, to check the prisoners, to do whatever. All it would take was one glance and then their advantage would be lost to the night forever.

"Sayid," Kate cut in, her voice firm and soothing for the wired soldier and nervous girl's sakes. She turned her attention Alex when the Iraqi lowered his gun to a less intimidating height. Instead of pointing straight towards the girl's head, it was closer to her upper legs, still capable of lethal danger but not so noticeable as to command all her attention.

"Alex," she said evenly, her green eyes only finding the girl's after her name had been voiced. "Please don't try to stop us. We don't want any trouble."

"I… I…" Alex stammered. She looked to Kate like that black horse she had seen a few weeks before in the jungle. Watchful, knowing, but nervous and ready to bolt the second came too close. So Kate approached her steadily, her hands outstretched, her footsteps quiet, as she tried to work her bewildered mind around the moment.

"Alex," Kate said again, trying to focus her inattention. "We know Jack never left. Where is he?"

"I was…" Alex glanced warily back at Sayid, captivated by the newcomer's presence, before turning completely back to Kate. "I was just coming to get you. I found him in the stockhut when Henry sent me for…"

Her voice trailed off and she flinched when Kate gently touched her shoulder even though she had watched her approach. Then panic glazed her blue eyes, reflecting brightly in the moonlight, and Kate swore she heard the girl's heart beating in rapid cadence.

"I had no clue he was still here," she stammered, stumbling over her words in the rush to clear her name. "Henry and Bea must have…"

"Henry." Sayid repeated the name with a distaste that made Kate's own stomach twist with uneasiness. Surely revenge was not something they taught excessively in the Republican Guard. She chanced a look over to him and sighed slightly when she took stock that his stance had not changed.

"Hey Tootsie Roll," Sawyer whispered fiercely. "We ain't gonna hurt ya, so just cool your heels…"

"Sawyer," Kate warned, the tone pleading with him for cooperation. He tossed his hair away from his face, holding his chin at angle that told her he wasn't happy about being reprimanded but he understood.

"Can you take us there?" she said to Alex, giving her shoulder an easy squeeze.

Alex nodded violently, and spun out of Kate's grasp. She headed toward the far end of the compound, the edge closest to the jungle and surprisingly the river, her stride barely controlled to what could still be considered a walk. The irony hit Kate as she followed the teenager, hearing the other's footsteps fall in sync behind her. She'd been closer to Jack earlier that afternoon when her eyes were desperately staring into the dense jungle, her mind irrationally hoping and wishing for a chance of his silhouette to be standing just past the vines and tangle of foliage. As if he were still waiting for her, watching over her. Instead, she'd walked by him. Just as she had done many times before.

"Are we going to let her know we still have him?"

Tom looked inquisitively at Henry and then shifted his gaze to Bea when he didn't receive an answer right away. The woman just barely shrugged to show her own lack of knowledge, the only betrayal of her interest in his question. For a brief moment of unreasonable jealousy, Tom wished he had her control. He couldn't remember a time when her tongue had gotten the better of her and earned the evil eye from the Boss. She always knew just what to say and just how to handle every situation thrown at them. And she did it all with a grace he knew he'd never have.

"Not yet," Henry said. He was staring at three charts on an illuminated board, his eyes intense with engrossed focus, searching the multitude of figures as if the answer to his dilemma was somewhere written on the pages of reports. As if all he had to do was recognize the pieces to be fit into the puzzle's borders and then his solution would just appear.

But he knew it was never that easy and he couldn't help the feeling that he was backed between a rock and a hard place for the first time in his career here. The next step in this experiment if one wanted to call it that, was very tricky and very crucial to the success of the whole design. He knew that one wrong move on his part, or anyone's for that matter, one push that shoved a little too hard, one word that went over the wrong way, one instance of carelessness that left too many doors open to be peeked through, could and would destroy everything they had worked so hard to achieve.

And what he couldn't find a way to accept was that the bottom line rested on her shoulders. What she decided would either make or break their whole plan; on one side of her, he could see the pen in her hand that was willing to sign herself and one other into contract with them, the other held the paper shredder that would grind the contract into little flakes that would uselessly across the floor. He couldn't force her to make the choice again he desperately wanted to reconsider, but he could at least give her that second chance.

The realization how to "guide" her to her final decision had barely taken shape in his mind, when Henry finally turned away from the charts and reports that had been the only power in the room impressive enough to hold his attention. The grin he knew was breaking across his face made Bea's dark eyes brighten with curiousity and Tom's mouth turn from a hesistant frown to a hopeless smile of anxiety.

"It's simple," Henry said, reveling in his realization and drawing out its revelation with a dramatic pause. "We're going to reward her."

Tom's frown returned. Bea's eyes didn't change.

"What for, Boss?" Tom asked. "I thought she didn't cooperate today."

"Oh no, she didn't cooperate at all." The vague answer left the other man even more confused and unnerved at his lack of understanding.

"Let's see if she can say no to her heart one more time."

"Jack."

He knew that voice. He'd have known it anywhere. Even in situations far worse than the one he found himself in now. But the soft almost breathless tone of her voice as she whispered his name was something he had only ever heard in his dreams. The ones that eventually became nightmares and left him awake in the middle of the night drenched in a cold sweat. Nights that he spent trying to calm his restless heart by staring vacantly for hours on end into the glowing embers of a dying fire. Nights that he thought up excuses for the drowsiness he knew she'd be the first to pick up on and worry about the next morning when he made his rounds.

Yet he'd never found the nerve to tell her that _she_ was the reason he didn't sleep well. Yes, he was always concerned for everyone's welfare and harbored differing degrees of unease for them all, but she was the one that introduced him to insomnia. Even after the sixty-days they've been stranded on this island, she was still the reason he wasn't asleep now.

Her hands were cool and soothing against his face, her thumbs pressing softly against his warm cheeks and hooking under the blindfold, lifting it slowly over his head so as not to aggravate his bruise or cut. When his eyes locked with hers, he noticed the glaze that glistened off the green in the moonlight leaking through the thatched roof and watched captivated as a tear escaped the corner of her eye, rushing down the crease by her nose, over her barely visible freckles.

He tried to say her name, but choked to silence on the gag still cutting into the edges of his mouth, a pain she quickly rid him of as she tossed the blindfold and dirty cloth to the side, her fingers working the gag from his mouth.

"Kate," he tried again, his voice raspy and harsh against the seemingly serenity of the night.

A relieved smile broke across her face, an embarrassed laugh escaping from her throat. Then her lower lip quivered, her brow knitting with that same sad look he was so familiar with, and she leaned into him, wrapping her arms around him in a desperately fierce embrace. He tried to be gentle, working his arms from between her frame and his own, but they were free, he was holding her to him so strongly, the pressure from his bruised and battered ribs battled for attention with some emotion he hadn't felt in a while. That didn't make him ease up any.

Her body shuddered from the violence of the exhaustive cathartic rush that had blind-sided her and that he knew was about to hit him any second. When he felt its powerful force crash against him, he turned his face into her neck, letting his tears dampen her unruly waves, feeling her own wetting the worn fabric of his shirt. She pulled back when someone cleared their throat awkwardly and only then did it sink in that they weren't alone.

His eyes found that smile again, her fingers running lightly along his jawline covered in a five o'clock shadow. She rocked back on the balls of her feet and looked up and away from him and Jack followed her gaze to see three faces, one he expected, one he would have eventually guessed, and one he probably should have known would have been involved.

"Can you walk?" Sayid asked. "We can not stay here much longer if we are going to get you out."

"I can distract them for a little bit," Alex offered.

"Nice to see ya again, Doc. Was awful quiet over there all by my lonesome," Sawyer teased.

Jack didn't bother answering, just slowly gathered his feet under him and rose slowly, shakily.

"Go slow," she whispered, her hands finding his middle to steady him, letting up only when she was sure his knees wouldn't suddenly buckle underneath him. "We've got a little bit of a hike ahead of us."

Taking a tentative step forward, he nodded, the motion causing the world to spin slightly around him. He squeezed his eyes tight in an attempt to ward off the dizziness that he knew by now was part of the after-effects of whatever tranquilizer they had hit him with. The soft contact that slipped into his hand startled him momentarily and he glanced at his fingers, watching her small hand interlock their fingers. He looked up, uncertainty pasted on his face, and returned the easy smile she flashed at him.

Jack caught Sayid's gaze, noticing the way it held both of them with a curious stare, not intrusive just observant. He felt something stir with what was almost pride when the Iraqi nodded his own understanding and turned to the exit with a final command.

"Let's go."


	27. Playing With Fire

Red In The Morning   
_By Sinking815_  
_September 16, 2006_

_A/N: So I know this chapter's a little on the short side, which really isn't fair after making you all wait patiently for about a week for me to update, but what I plan next didn't really mesh with what happens in this chapter. I'll have it up tomorrow though, probably in the afternoon sometime and I know that one will be longer for sure. And I'm only going to tease a little by saying, it's the moment some of you have been waiting for… ;) As always, please read and review._

_Chapter 27: Playing With Fire_

"If you hurry, you can make it to the treeline."

Alex let the small gap she was peering through narrow to nothingness, and turned to face the group behind her. It was sort of amusing, she thought, surveying the four very different expressions watching her, how there could be so many reactions to one comment. Forcing her eyes to Kate, she ignored the mens' stares. For some disturbing reason, she felt as if Henry staring back at her through their eyes.

"I can take these," she said, raising a durlap bag with a Dharma logo stamped on it in black. "And distract them long enough to let you make your getaway."

She risked a peek back out into the night. The moonlight streaming across the thatched roofs of the multiple huts and sparkling off the waves to her right may have instilled a moment of tranquility and peace within her. But tonight, the beauty of midnight was lost on her. Her thumping heart had absolutely no appreciation for it.

"How do we know you won't alert them to come after us?"

Alex turned back to face her interrogator, his brown eyes wide-open and staring, but she felt as if they were narrowed at her with the suspicion she heard in his tone. She opened her mouth to reply, but Kate cut her off.

"Sayid," the other woman said, her head tilted slightly, a tone of warning in her voice. "Alex isn't one of _them_." She paused and glanced to the girl watching her gratefully. "She let Claire go."

Sayid didn't answer, just moved past her and looked out into the night as Alex had done a moment before. The teenager watched him, not offended in the slightest that he needed to confirm for himself what she had just told him. His dark hand eased the wooden door shut and he fixed her with a hard stare before turning to regard his companions.

"Do you think you're fine to walk?" The question was aimed at the doctor.

Jack looked up surprised, finding Sayid's eyes and then Kate's. He saw the worry in both of them, one eyes with the consequences of what would happen if he lagged behind, the other reflecting unguarded concern for nothing but him. The truth was, he didn't know himself. His legs still felt wobbly underneath him, the only thing holding him from the ground her hand locked with his and the slight support of her shoulder. That was the first time he allowed himself to recognize her stance, one he'd seen multiple times before. The stance that had told him and many others he knew to back-off. Shaking of the pride he felt swell inside him, threatening to irritate his sore ribs, he nodded with more confidence than he felt, and voiced a hoarse, "Yeah."

"Then we should get going," Sayid commanded, and as if he was just strolling out of his own house, he pushed the door wide and stalked into the yard.

Sawyer moved to follow the soldier, his hands still firmly clutching the rifle in front of him. As he passed Jack, he offered him his trademark smirk and quipped, "Don't sweat it Doc. You get filly's legs on us and I'll haul ya back to camp myself."

Jack scrunched his face, somewhat confused as to whether he should be gladdened by Sawyer's offer or wary of it. Before he could respond, Sawyer shook his looks, the dimples in his cheeks deepening and evident even in the murkiness of the hut.

"Awww, c'mon Doc. You know I owe ya one."

And with that, the Southerner stepped out into the moonlight, the silver glow glinting off the barrel as he walked. He stopped by the other silhouette and turned to face them, waiting.

"One?" Kate teased, smiling after him and tugging Jack out of his trance. "I'd say he owes you about nine."

They retraced his footsteps, Jack doing his best to not lean into her too much for support, Alex following a safe distance behind them. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt winded walking the twenty yards they had gone, the air he sucked in burning in his chest. He hoped no one saw the wince he couldn't control, and knew he had failed when he felt his arms fall across a pair of broad shoulders and a pair of narrow ones.

"Take it easy," he heard her whisper at his side, and the tunnel vision threatening to have its way with him released its relentless hold. Once the world stopped spinning and widened around him, Jack allowed himself to focus on their voices.

"You should come with us," Kate was saying.

"No, I can't," Alex replied, shaking her head and holding out her hands as if that would prevent the idea from coming closer. "My place is here."

"We could take you to your mother," Sayid said. "She's been looking for you."

Jack felt Kate stiffen a little under the weight of his arm, and it was only a few more seconds before he felt the cold draft hit him from nowhere. Well, not nowhere, he knew as he watched the first expression of anger crease the features of Alex's face. The voice that came next made that chilliness penetrate to the bone.

"My mother died when I was born," she said. "Now I suggest you go."

They all exchanged glances, unsure and mystified of the sudden change in her mood. It was like playing with fire, something Jack knew would never end well if they decided to tempt it.

"Well, thanks for all your help," Kate said.

And with that awkward good-bye, the four took their leave.

Her knees locked, her muscles tense with rage, Alex stood and watched their backs retreating into the jungle. The Iraqi worked his way ahead of the slower moving trio, glancing back every now and then to watch her with his wary eyes. He needn't have worried. She was glad to see them go.

When they were safely hidden within the gloom of the jungle, Alex turned on her heel and strode back to the only glowing hut in the compound. The bag of test kits swung heavily against her side, knocking her thigh with the rhythm of her gait. The beginnings of grief at the loss of yet another ally started to weigh on her mind, but she didn't dare risk another glance back. Instead she squared her shoulders, straightened her back, and strode forward with more deliberately than she'd done before.

It was better this way, she told herself. If they had stayed, she'd have lost their friendship anyway.


	28. Constellations

Red In The Morning   
_By Sinking815_  
_September 25th, 2006_

_A/N: Ugh, this chapter took me a little longer than I expected. I had to get it just right and not only that, I had to step into a new character's POV which wasn't what I thought it was going to be. Talk about complex guy! (hee hee you'll have to read to figure out who that mystery man is!) I think this is it, everyone. Sorry if that's disappointing, but I feel like the story's been drawn out enough. (If I put our trio through anything else, they might go on strike too!) This is the end. Thank you all so much for your reviews! Maybe I'll tackle another commitment-required story over the hiatus, but until then, it's back to one-shots for me (I've thought up so many working on this thing!) As always please read and review._

_Chapter 28: Constellations_

Like a younger sibling who teases and torments just enough to annoy and just enough to amuse, sleep was playing games with her. Listening to the soft snores and gentle movements at her back, Kate pleaded for the sleep that had found her friends. She wanted to sleep. She needed to sleep. She was sure if it would let her, she'd find relief from the past few days, but her mind was stuck in overdrive and she was forced to wait until it had decided to move onto someone else.

Her muscles burned when she rolled over in an attempt to find a more comfortable position on the awkward floor, a silent reminder that they weren't happy about running through the dense underbrush of the jungle in the middle of the night. Ignoring their protest, Kate pulled her knees towards her belly, her hands tucking close to herself to hold the warmth of her own body against herself. She tried to distract her tired mind, focusing her attention on Sun who slept soundly on the raised bed of the cramped cabin. The mother-to-be lay on her side, her left arm draped casually over her stomach as if blanketing the life within. The thought unnerved Kate and her eyes darted away.

She couldn't see Locke, but could hear his snores from somewhere above her head and when she looked up, straining to catch a glimpse of him, her vision was blocked by the dark silhouette of Sayid's body. The soldier slept soundly on his back and for a moment, Kate wondered if he was really asleep or just dozing. When the boat rocked with the heave of a wave and his head lolled with it, she forgot all thoughts of his alertness instantly and her attention turned to the twitch of an arm just past his sleeping form.

The smile she successfully surpressed was aimed at Sawyer, sprawled on his back; the only give-away that his dreams were anything but pleasant was the pissed-off look on his face. She could see the shameless angle his right knee was bent at, his other leg ramrod straight as if bracing for impact, his arms shifted to the right side of his body as if he wanted to roll onto his side. If it weren't for his closed eyes, Kate could have sworn he was ready for a fight despite his betrayingly relaxed posture.

That left Jack and for a second Kate panicked when her eyes didn't find him right away. Then the boat rocked gently and the moonlight leaking from the deck fell across the floor, illuminating his face, the glow shifting ever so slightly with the roll of the waves. She sighed heavily, studying him and feeling the flush in her cheeks about doing so. What if he woke up and caught her staring?

Despite her embarrassment, Kate couldn't help but notice how un-Jack-like he looked. He lay facing her, his arms stretched out in front of him, his legs bent at the knees, one more so than the other. For the first time since they had been here, he looked relaxed.

Stretching her cramped legs, she sat up and decided sleep wasn't about to find her anytime soon. The cool ocean breeze beckoned her out of the cabin and she stood carefully, finding her balance between the tosses of the boat. Kate deliberately and slowly tip-toed her way to the stairs leading invitingly to the upper deck, stepping cautiously over Jack. When she felt her booted foot connect with something solid, she froze, her shoulders tense. Only after several seconds had passed did she allow herself to turn around, expecting to find his sleepy blinking eyes staring at her. Kate let a strangled sigh escape her lips as she watched him shift slightly, his eyes kept firmly shut. Quickly she ascended the stairs before she caused anymore trouble.

The instant her body was exposed to the full blast of ocean breeze, Kate wished she had stayed below deck. The cool air ripped right through her thin T-shirt and paid no attention to the feeble protection her arms provided folded high across her chest. She glanced around, her eyes squinted against the rush of air, and slipped a small smile toward Jin. He nodded and smiled back, not voicing a question or speaking her name. As she turned and headed towards the bow, Kate tried to forget the feel of his eyes following her. Jin was never an accusing sort of person, and she liked his quiet way. She wished more people were like that.

No, Kate thought harshly, leaning heavily against the boat's railing. She cupped her hands around her elbows and focused her eyes far out to sea, noticing with subtle appreciation the way the night sky blended seemlessly with the dark waters of the ocean. She came out here to clear her mind and thinking about her fellow castaways was not going to help.

She blew out a weary sigh, shivering slightly as the breeze tossed her hair, its unruly curves tickling the backs of her bare arms, its coolness raising goosebumps along her exposed skin. It felt good though, so different from the heat of the past few days and the claustrophobic atmosphere below deck. She relished the cold, the freshness, closed her eyes and breathed in the chilly air until it bit viciously inside her chest.

Her heart almost jumped overboard when she opened her eyes and noticed the dark form standing next to her. But relief flooded her the instant she realized it was just him. She watched out of the corner of her eye, pretending like she didn't know he had joined her, as he mimicked her stance, leaning his own weight against the metal rails. He looked once at her, then out to the horizon, then back at her again and Kate fought the flush of heat she felt spreading throughout her.

He must have noticed the awkwardness of the silence because he broke into it as gently as possible.

"I always liked Orion."

She forced herself to keep her face neutral and turned to him, faltering as the moonlight flickered with the smile in his eyes. His voice was still thick with sleep, but he seemed more at ease. Probably from the few good hours of actual rest he got, she mused. She was distracted by the explanation she hadn't asked for but the one he had decided to give anyway.

"I think it's… well I know it's because it was the easiest to find."

The smile in his eyes finally caught up with his mouth and he huffed at his own nerves. Even after two short months with him, Kate had learned to recognize his unease in an instant. It was the way he glanced down at his hands, his fingers twisting as if working over some job or object known only to him. Then came the sigh that rose into the night chasing after hers. He nudged her gently with his elbow, catching her wandering attention.

"Now would be the time when you shared yours," he teased lightly.

She narrowed her eyes at him slightly, suddenly feeling the urge to be guarded around him. The brief change in his eyes she saw was her own reflected uncertainty that was quickly replaced with anger at being so open. He had always had that irritating ability to read her and it seemed he was learning to master it.

"Pegasus," she said, a little too rushed. Then as if to make up for her abrupt answer, "I used to love horses."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him press his lips together, nodding slowly as he glanced quickly out to sea and then turned back to her. "I should've known."

She smiled, ducking her head shyly, feeling the heat inside her intensify.

The silence fell lazily on them again, the only intensity of it seemingly resonating with the crisp breeze slipping stealthily through the small gap of night separating their bodies. It was almost as if they found common ground, Kate thought. Neither one of them dominated in their tranquil moment. It was mutual, as if they were leaning into each other for support to be taken and support to be given. Comfortable was not a word that she used very often, and she couldn't name this invisible bond she had formed with him and he with her. But if she had to, she'd settle for comfortable.

"What are we doing Kate?"

Her brow scrunched at the question, not fully understanding, and she fixed him with a confused stare. His dark eyes slowly found their way back to hers and for a moment, they just stared. She felt the remnants of the walls they had built and torn-down only to be patched again crumbling from the weight of their stare. He repeated his question when the last brick had dissolved.

"What are we doing about _us_?" Jack asked, stirring the space between them with a hand.

She bit her lip and looked away from his watchful gaze, feeling her chest constricting and her mind start a dull throb. As if knowing he had frightened her and afraid she would run from him, Jack reached gently for her arm, holding enough to ground her.

"If you don't know, that's fine, I just…"

He let his sentence trail off lamely. Even in the lack of words, Kate could hear his own confusion, anxiety and frustration at whatever this was and stopped her own head from nodding her understanding. When had this conversation about constellations become so serious?

She closed her eyes, swallowing around a lump that threatened her control. What _did_ she want? Sighing, she opened her eyes, finding that spot so distant on the horizon, letting her eyes wander between the spaces when Orion and Pegasus should have been. But the patches of black were devoid of stars and suddenly Kate felt her legs wobble underneath her as the waves seemed to pitch her out of reality. Her hand instinctively reached for his and the turmoil steadied within her as she felt him return her grip.

"I…" Her voice sounded choked and Kate swallowed again, fighting for control. Her heart raced and her mind was trying to coerce her legs into bolting because she had trained it to do that when she felt the warning prickling of dependence. She glanced at him, pleading with him to understand, but the look he gave her was inquisitive and patient, the same way he had always been with her.

"I like this," she said slowly, almost as if admitting something she'd later regret. There it was out, she thought. Her shoulders stiffened and she braced, waiting with an irrational fear for it to be trampled and thrown back in her face. His arms circling around her was not what she'd been expecting.

Feeling the hot sting of tears and the shudder jolt her body, Kate buried her face into his chest, a fresh spurt of relief wetting the front of his shirt when she felt him press a kiss to her hair and whisper back.

"I like this too."

From where he stood, he could only hear the gentle murmur of their voices. Not that he'd be able to understand what they were saying anyway. If there was thing Jin had learned about those two, it was that they were too complex for him to try to understand, language barrier aside. He supposed that was what fascinated everyone at camp about them.

When they were together, there was always a small gap between them, both physical and emotional, or at least he had thought so. A minute space that allowed a ray of light squeezing past their hips, as if they were afraid that if that light weren't there, they'd be something more. Something neither of them was quite ready for.

Noticing that lack of space separating them now, he watched them for a few more seconds before dutifully looking away as if to allow for their privacy. It was funny, he thought. No one, not even Sawyer, could argue that there wasn't some sort of connection they shared. It was different from everyone else, more intricate, more secretive, more intimate.

But it was as if they had decided to let their relationship develop backwards. Normally, Jin mused, people fell in love, were happy, then let their problems drive them apart. If anything, Jack and Kate were dealing with those separations before commiting to the relationship. He chuckled softly to himself, risking a furtive glance over at them, before checking the course set on the compass in his hand, letting his gaze find the bright sparks of the stars above.

A few miles back, Henry stared at a similar patch of sky, squinting, trying to make out the small boat that had sailed away from them. The booted footprints of the rescuers and rescuees littered the sand his bare feet were currently almost ankle-deep in. He barely heard the nervous shifts of his team behind him.

But what surprised him most was that he didn't feel the slightest bit angry at his hostages' escape. In fact, he almost welcomed it.

"Boss?" Tom's gruff voice sounded cautiously into the night. "Should we go after them?"

He stared silently, a few tense seconds passing by lost forever to the expanse of time. Time, he thought. It seemed so much more impressive in the dark. Maybe that's why he wasn't feeling the crunch of this seeming defeat.

"No," he said, not quite feeling the resoluteness evident in his voice.

There was no need for a questions demanding an explanation behind him. He turned to face the uncertain looks of his comrades, smiling from Alex to Tom to Pickett to Bea.

"We've already gotten what we wanted."

He strode a few yards from them, then his crypticness disappeared and his barked order to hurry was met with a flurry of commotion and the small group evaporated into the jungle.

_Finis_


End file.
